


I'm Not Great at Harmonizing

by orangebiscotti



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Post-Time Skip, Romance, Singing, Slow Burn, Tea Parties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-08-20 15:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 44,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20230219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangebiscotti/pseuds/orangebiscotti
Summary: “You know, there’s a word for that kind of phenomenon. I believe it’s called an earworm,” Sylvain grinned as he wiggled a mischievous eyebrow. “Not the most flattering phrase, but I can assure you, it’s just a catchy tune, no magic shenanigans.”





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction in over 15 years. Let's see how this goes.

Swords were simple. And their simplicity in purpose combined with the complexity required for mastery was a comfort to Felix. It was that utilitarian approach that usually allowed him to empty his mind of all distractions. But really, any weapon would do so long as its bearer was strong and skilled.

A faint breeze ruffled the swordsman's hair as he sat atop a weathered crate behind the stables. Felix ran a dry cloth across his sword and stared back at his reflection in the blade with a quiet frown. Despite his best efforts, today's distractions were especially obstinate, and it was hampering his progress.

That afternoon’s training session played back through his mind in an endless loop. His footwork was shoddy, and he knew his stance was full of openings. The look of surprise and disappointment on the professor’s face was less than favorable.

No matter how much Felix tried, it felt impossible to keep his thoughts clear and focused. With each clash of his blade, a certain tune insisted on flitting through his mind. He crossed his leg over his knee, his foot idly bouncing to the tempo with each wipe of the cleaning cloth across his blade.

“Geez, Felix, you really took that old adage to heart—you know the one about wearing the same expression so long that it’s permanently stuck?”

“Sylvain,” the swordsman tsked irritably as his childhood stepped out from the shade of the stable overhang. “What do you want?”

“What? Do you always have to assume I’m looking for something? Maybe I’m just keeping an eye on you!”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Heh, maybe,” Sylvain flashed a cheeky grin and ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, I really was coming to check on you. And not because of that perpetually sour frown.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Get to the point, Sylvain. I’m busy.”

“Fine, I’ll cut to the chase,” Sylvain folded his arms. “It’s about your form earlier. I’ll be blunt—it was pretty poor. Definitely not what I would expect from you.”

“Oh, so _ now _you’re taking training seriously?” he grunted in reply and resumed cleaning the same spot on his blade. Sylvain’s words stung more than Felix preferred. He knew his friend was right, and his form as of late was sloppy. He leaned over his sword and continued cleaning with more fervor than before, as if scouring the blade with the rag would somehow wipe clean the mental fog impacting his performance. 

The redhead sighed. “Come on now, I’m actually being serious for once. I’ve known you long enough to tell when your head’s not in the game. I know it was a surprise to see the professor return after so many years, but—”

“Sylvain, what do you know about song magic?”

“Eh?” 

“Tch, is your hearing going now?”

“No, I heard you,” Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Not sure if I follow though. I’m not aware of any song-related spells. Are you looking to ask the professor about changing your class?”

“It’s nothing like that. Forget I asked.”

Sylvain leaned against the stable wall, still observing his childhood friend with mild interest. After a moment of silence he chuckled to himself. “Ah. ‘Crumbs and yums,’ am I right?”

The cleaning rag in Felix's hand crumpled. “...What?”

“You were humming it to yourself when I came over. That’s what this is about, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix scowled and sheathed his blade. “You heard nothing.” 

“You know, there’s a word for that kind of phenomenon. I believe it’s called an earworm,” Sylvain grinned as he wiggled a mischievous eyebrow. “Not the most flattering phrase, but I can assure you, it’s just a catchy tune, no magic shenanigans.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong about something,” Felix retorted. This conversation was starting to veer in a direction he was less than pleased about. 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I’m correct about this one. I had the privilege of hearing _ that _ particular melody in the halls a few days back.”

Felix grunted again and studied the woodgrain of the stable wall. Bringing this topic up to Sylvain of all people felt like a terrible idea in retrospect, and he was already regretting even making mention. The swordsman inwardly groaned at his lack of forethought.

It was just his luck that Sylvain happened to accidentally come upon Annette singing _ that _ song. The exact same song Felix personally spent over a week seeking out an encore performance, and of course he wasn't about to explicitly ask. It didn’t seem right to approach her and ask to hear it again, especially after she usurped his assigned chores and ordered he wipe the melody from his memory—a demand he had no intention of complying with, even if it did render him ‘the evilest of villains.’

_ As if it would be that easy to forget in the first place… _

“You know, the last time I happened upon the professor and Annette on kitchen duty, she was singing about _ dish soap _ of all things,” Sylvain continued, “I’m pretty sure the professor was still humming it a week later, so even _he's_ not completely immune,” he flashed another charming grin. “If all it takes is a catchy tune from a pretty girl to let your guard down during training, you better keep that detail to yourself or someone’s gonna exploit it the next time we’re sparring!”

“Whatever. I should’ve known not to waste my time asking you.”

“Fine, fine,” Sylvain waved a lazy hand. The hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “There’s only one cure for a really bad earworm, though...”

“There is?” he asked, his voice rising a bit higher than he would’ve liked. 

“You’ll just have to hear the song again in full, of course.”


	2. Da Capo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was unusual for someone to express an interest in her songs, especially incomplete ones. Then again, she didn’t exactly make it a habit to share unfinished songs with just anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed this support chain. But I wish there was more. So I'll continue making more.

There was something deeply gratifying about a tidy, orderly room. Seeing everything in its proper place filled Annette with the same sort of delight she felt when a particularly complex harmony resolved itself at the end of a good song. Everything was going swimmingly—no one was willing to volunteer for cleaning duty in the library so late in the evening, which made it the perfect time to combine two of her favorite passions together in solitude. 

Yet this time her orderly cleaning and the song that accompanied it were thrown off balance, and she found herself desperately wishing she could wave her feather duster at the interruption and clean it away as easily as she did the dust bunnies from moments earlier. 

_ Of all people, why did it have to be him?! _

“What are _ you _doing here, Felix?!”

The swordsman stood opposite her with his hand on his hip. Annette couldn’t decide if he intentionally snuck up on her, seeking the perfect opportunity to make fun of her song again, or if she had been so absorbed in singing that she simply didn’t notice him approach. She decided it was definitely the former. Absolutely the former. 

“I heard singing,” he answered flatly. 

“You were watching me again, weren’t you?!”

_ How many more chores do I need to bribe him with to make him forget?! _

“You shouldn’t dance up there,” Felix gestured to the upper level of the library. “You could fall.”

_ Not only did he hear my singing, but he saw my dancing too!? _

“Oh, _ today _ of all days,” she grumbled to herself. There was no malice in his voice. And for some reason, that made the entire situation feel even worse. It would be so much easier to be upset with him if he was openly mocking her instead of voicing misplaced concern. Why couldn’t it have been… well, _ anyone _else!? “I knew I should’ve chosen a different song…”

Felix raised an eyebrow. He looked genuinely curious. “A different song? Like what?”

“Any of them!” she waved her hands with vigor, “The box song! Or maybe the dungeon song!” 

“Now _ those _ sound interesting.”

“No, they’re just regular songs!” she flustered. After all, the library song was still an unfinished piece. For a brief moment she almost considered asking him which he’d prefer to hear. But that would’ve been even _ more _ embarrassing. If he wasn’t teasing her now, he almost certainly would after such a ridiculous question. “Oh, forget it,” she huffed, “While you’re here, can you help me clean up?”

_ I might as well put him to work! If I can’t make him forget, then I’ll make him regret interrupting me! The threat of chores should be enough to send him running. _

Felix glanced across the library, then looked back at her expectantly as if awaiting an order. Apparently the offloading of mundane chores didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“I need the books on that shelf up there, but I can’t reach them…”

“Oh. Sure, no problem,” he shrugged. 

_ Ah. I didn’t actually expect that to work. _

Annette tapped her feather duster against the crook of her arm and hoped the dim lights of the library would mask the color rising to her cheeks. Why was it every time she found herself in Felix’s company, he always seemed to catch her off-guard? She furiously resumed dusting the closest shelf with a frown. 

He turned away from her and ascended the rolling library ladder. The wood creaked underneath each step as he approached the collection of tomes along the top shelf. Her dusting motions slowed to a halt, and she watched his back from below. The glow of the library candles danced across his dark hair and washed over him with a warm light. The faintest whispers of a new song tickled the back of her mind—maybe something about books flying off the shelf and launching themselves at a handsome swordsman who managed to nimbly dodge each one with admirable deftness—

“What?” the sound of his voice snapped her out of her daydream. Suddenly Felix was back in front of her again, lowering the last of the books on top of the desk. “You’re not going to sing anymore?” 

“No way!” Annette clenched the feather duster with a scowl. “It’s too embarrassing! And that song isn’t even finished, anyway.”

Felix frowned. He looked disappointed. “Ah, that’s too bad.”

_ Of course he’s disappointed! I’m not giving him another chance to tease me, not again! _

“I wanted to hear what happened after the library was blown away,” he continued after a moment and stared at her. 

_ Wait. What? _

“Hey…" she muttered, "Don’t look at me like that!” 

This was new. An unfamiliar feeling tugged at her chest. It was unusual for someone to express an interest in her songs, especially incomplete ones. Then again, she didn’t exactly make it a habit to _ share _ unfinished songs with just anyone. It was... _ pleasant—_a word she’d never consider using to describe the irascible Felix of all people.

“OK, fine. If you insist, I’ll sing just a bit more…”

Annette swallowed back that strange fluttering sensation in her chest. His request seemed sincere enough. The young woman resumed the first stanza of the incomplete library song with all the cheer and vigor from earlier, then trailed off, sensing his silence. 

She shyly cast him a glance. Felix was still watching her with the same intensity she’d seen so many times before on the battlefield. Instead of trying to anticipate the movements of an enemy unit, she wondered if he was attempting to guess the next lines of her song. Whatever emotion was hiding behind his brown eyes, it was difficult to discern. A rush of inspiration flooded her while under his gaze—if he wanted an ending, he was going to get one!

_“—What a great job I did!”_ she sang and spun in a little twirl to complete the line, _“Who says cleaning isn’t fun?”_

_ There, take THAT, Felix! _

Silence. 

The library’s grandfather clock chimed the hour from the corner of the room. There was no laughter, no jeering, and not even the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. 

“Huh,” Felix finally uttered after a moment. He was still frowning. “That really doesn’t explain what happened with the library,” he remarked and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe they’ll build a new one?”

That strange feeling wriggling in her tummy resumed. She couldn’t help but smile in spite of herself and felt her face grow warm again. It was awfully nice having the company of someone who was so invested in the resolution of her songs. Annette couldn’t help but wonder what sort of feedback he might have for the box song…

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing…” After another moment of silence she covered her cheeks with her hands in embarrassment. It wouldn’t do her any good to let herself get carried away just by a little bit of conversation. But…

_ I thought he was going to make fun of me. Maybe I was wrong after all. _

“W-well! You were a great big help, Felix! Thanks a bunch!”

“A big help? You cleaned pretty much the entire library. All I did was grab some books.”

“No no,” Annette waved the feather duster at him in a scolding motion, “It’s thanks to you that I was able to complete the library song!”

For the first time in their conversation, Felix appeared embarrassed. He finally broke his stare and shuffled uncomfortably. The swordsman seemed entirely unprepared for the compliment. “So...is there going to be a sequel?”

“A...sequel?”

“Or whatever. When they build the new library. You can’t just leave it like that.”

“Well, of course! I promise I’ll come up with a resolution, just for you, since you asked so nicely.”

“Just for me…?” 

“Absolutely!”

There was another brief pause. His eyes met hers. For a moment he looked like he was about to add something, then changed his mind. 

“Good.”


	3. Sforzando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re right. I’m not worried about you holding your own. I want you to harmonize better with the others.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Byleth is not a man of many words.

“What do you mean, you’re assigning me an adjutant!? Is this some kind of joke?”

Dust slowly danced in the midmorning sunlight streaming through the windows of Garreg Mach Monastery's grand hall. The professor looked up from his book. His expression was cool and unaffected, and Felix hated it. 

“Don’t give me the silent treatment. If this has to do with my performance during training last week, I think I’ve more than made up for it with my recent victories in our last battle.”

Irritation bubbled up inside. Professor Byleth was always full of surprises, but Felix preferred when those surprises involved impressive footwork and clashing steel, not… unwelcome reassignments. 

“I told you I work best alone,” he continued as the professor maintained his silence. “I don’t see how this is going to help. If anyone needs an adjutant, it should be Sylvain to keep him in line, not _ me. _”

“A little bit of teamwork never hurt,” Byleth finally spoke. Felix sensed there was more to that statement than the Professor was letting on judging by the glimmer in his piercing teal eyes. 

“Tch. Your concern is misplaced. I can easily hold my own.”

“You’re right. I’m not worried about you holding your own. I want you to harmonize better with the others.”

Harmonize? Had someone made a complaint? How pathetic. Felix started running through a list of possible guilty parties in his mind.

“Anyways,” Byleth closed his book and offered a nod as he began to walk away, “it’s time for tea. Make sure you’re prepared for tomorrow’s campaign. We’re going up against some tough monsters.”

“Whatever,” Felix grunted in response and waved a dismissive hand as the professor sauntered away, his ridiculous sleeves flapping behind him. “My _ adjutant _ can sit back and watch. It’ll be faster that way.”

“Sit back and watch?! I have just as much a right to participate as you!”

_ Wait. That’s... _

The voice calling out in protest was familiar. Bright and melodic, even if it carried a note of irritation. An unwelcome sensation twisted in his chest at the sound. Annette rounded the corner, the fire in her eyes burning almost as brightly as her orange hair as she clenched her fists. “Sorry I’m so _ difficult _ to work with, Felix!” 

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that! _ I’m _ the one who asked the professor if we could work together, but if the idea of pairing with me is that _ unappealing—_”

“I didn’t say that,” he answered a little too quickly and struggled to make eye contact. Ever since their last encounter in the library, Felix found himself wandering after his training drills seeking out her next song. It wasn’t on purpose, and that made it even more bewildering.

Despite Annette’s resounding cheer that seemed to echo wherever she went, whenever he _ wanted _ to find her, she was nowhere to be found. In fact, the entire thing was starting to frustrate him. Everyone _ else _ seemed to accidentally earn an audience to her singing with no effort, why did _ he _ have to work so hard to track her down? 

And even worse, _ why_, when she finally was standing in front of him, did he manage to make an ass of himself again? 

“Well…well, I’m going to be your adjutant, whether you like it or not! Besides,” she laced her fingers behind her back and rolled forward on her feet with a mischievous smile, “the professor said you need to learn to harmonize better with others.”

_ Harmonize_. That same word again. Suddenly something in his mind clicked.

“Are you going to sing?”

“W-what?!” she flailed, her face almost as red as her hair. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought my question was pretty straightforward," Felix responded. Suddenly the idea of having an adjutant wasn't so disagreeable after all.

"I...I can't just _ sing _ in the middle of battle! It might give our position away! Or worse!"

"Oh."

_ Well, that makes sense. Unfortunately. _

She set her mouth in a taut frown, but her eyes were shining. Felix found himself wondering if she was scheming a way to somehow sing mid-battle. "I suppose...I mean, once we _ win—_because we _ will _ win, of course—I could come up with something."

The idea was promising. But after spending a week hoping to hear the continuation of the library song, Felix couldn't help but feel a little impatient. Waiting until the end of tomorrow's battle suddenly felt too far away. "I...suppose."

"Ah," she idly twisted a loose strand of hair between her fingers. "This is silly. We should be preparing for tomorrow!"

"Right," Felix answered after a moment's pause. "I hope this battle gives you plenty of inspiration then."

"I'm positive it will!" Annette's hands were clenched into little fists again, but this time her face glowed with excitement. "That's exactly why I asked the professor to be your adjutant!"

_ She asked…? That’s right. She did mention that earlier. _

His ears felt hot. He wasn't sure why. "What are you talking about?"

"You helped me finish my library song, after all! So...if we work together, I'm sure my next one will be even _ better _!"

“It’s finished?”

“Yes! Don’t you remember?”

Felix struggled to recall the ending, but if what Sylvain said was true, the last thing he wanted to do was hear the song again and promptly clear it from his memory. Wasn’t there supposed to be a sequel? The melody from ‘Crumbs and Yums’ kept interrupting whenever he tried to recall the library song. His mind drifted to her accompanying dance instead. There was a cute little twirl somewhere in there, wasn’t there? Maybe she’d dance too if he asked nicely. Actually, that was starting to sound like a decent idea—

“You really don’t remember?! Augh,” she huffed and clenched her fists again. “F-forget it then! Let’s just hope you’re paying closer attention in battle!”

_ And...she’s mad at me. Again. _

But before he could offer an apology, she was already running off down the halls, her hair catching the sunlight like a bright ball of fire. The same suffocating sensation from earlier was back, pressing down on his chest and sending his stomach into a flurry of somersaults. Sylvain’s advice from last week tugged at the back of his memory. If the only cure for a persistent earworm was hearing the same song again in full…

He had no interest in ridding himself of the melody repeating in his mind. Meaning Sylvain was a rotten liar, and there was magic at play after all, of course. Because what else could it be?


	4. Obbligato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This...isn’t about your recent class change, is it.” Mercedes’s tone was kind, but it was obviously a statement, not a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate a good shadow puppet show every once in a while.

“Ugh,” she flopped face-first into her pillow with a groan. “_Mercie_... I think I made a mistake,” Annette whined.

Her friend looked up from her book from across the room and offered a gentle smile. “Nonsense. I believe your recent class selection made perfect sense given all the progress you made as a Warlock.”

“Noooo,” Annette pressed her face further into the pillow. Her cheeks were warm with an unwelcome mixture of embarrassment and frustration. Warm enough to maybe light the pillow on fire and then earn an excuse to wriggle her way out of tomorrow’s mission—

“This...isn’t about your recent class change, is it.” Mercedes’s tone was kind, but it was obviously a statement, not a question.

Annette rolled onto her back and stretched her arms in the air. She wiggled her fingers in the candlelight, casting blurry shadow puppets across the ceiling. “I was so excited when we reunited and were back together again with the professor,” she sighed. “But I forgot just how _ grumpy _ Felix was.”

“Hn,” Mercedes tilted her head. “But the other day you were so pleased that he helped you finish your song.”

“I-I _ was—_!” 

“Then…?”

“That’s just it,” she interlocked her fingers, creating a vague, wolf-like shadow, “He...he already forgot the ending.”

“Oh dear,” Mercedes didn’t sound worried in the least. 

“In fact, I should just call this whole thing off. I’ll pair up with you again!”

“Oh dear,” her friend repeated. Again, her tone showed no concern whatsoever. In fact, in the candlelight of her old dorm room, it almost appeared as though Mercedes was trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t think the professor would be too pleased with you changing plans on such short notice.”

“You’re right…” Annette sighed. It wasn’t often she approached Professor Byleth with personal requests, but yesterday she was fired up. The young woman recalled her professor’s mild amusement—he seemed utterly unphased by her request and cut her speech short with a simple approval before flouncing off to tea time. A shame, especially after spending the morning rehearsing it in the mirror. In the moment, it sounded like an excellent idea, but there was a selfish undercurrent beneath her wish to serve as an adjutant. 

There was something about Felix’s company made it easier to come up with new song lyrics. Easier and _ fun_, in a strange way. So if she worked with him as an adjutant, finding inspiration for her next song would be a piece of cake. It seemed like a good idea at the time...

_ Maybe I just work better under pressure. _

Annette couldn’t get the sight of Felix’s stare out of her head. And it wasn’t just him staring in the library. Training drills, stable duty, and even during mealtime she sensed his eyes on her from across the room. Annette knew she had no logical reason to avoid the swordsman, but she was running out of alternate routes through Garreg Mach to prevent bumping into him. Because bumping into him meant more staring, and possibly more singing—and _ that _ meant… well, she wasn’t sure _ what _that meant, but the idea left her feeling flustered.

She waved her fingers as if pretending her shadow puppet was barking at an invisible threat. If avoiding him wasn’t working, confronting him head-on seemed like the best solution. And what better way than to request working as his adjutant in their next mission? 

“Ugh…” Annette rolled over on her side, abandoning her shadow puppet.

“Annie…?”

“I thought...he _ liked _ my songs,” she murmured into the pillow. “I don’t… I don’t just sing for _ anyone_, you know.”

“Of course, I know that.”

“I even had a _ dance—_!”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

Annette groaned again. That wasn’t a detail she planned on sharing with Mercedes, but it managed to slip out regardless. In the presence of her best friend, it was hard not to share. Her face prickled uncomfortably with embarrassment at the memory. Spinning and twirling about in the library with a feather duster… even if Felix forgot the lyrics to her song, there was no way he forgot seeing something that humiliating.

But the worst part was that in the moment, she loved the attention—_his _ attention. Having a captive audience was a new and confusing sensation. How could she allow herself to get so carried away? If this was all it took to let her guard down, she was positively hopeless. Obviously it didn’t mean as much to _ him _though, if he couldn’t even be bothered to remember the song days later. 

“Well… I have an idea, if it helps?” Mercedes offered after a moment. “Since you won’t be changing assignments for tomorrow, that is.”

“What kind of idea?”

“Well,” her friend folded her hands in her lap as if preparing to deliver a rehearsed speech. In fact, Annette almost wondered if this _ was _ premeditated, given the twinkle in Mercedes’s eyes. “Why not make your next song about Felix?”

“W-w-_what_?!”

“Having a song dedicated to you is quite an honor,” Mercedes continued sweetly, “and it would be impossible to forget a song about yourself, right?”

“I...I can’t do that!”

“Whyever not?”

“He’s… he’s too _ difficult _ to write a song for!”

“Since when did that ever stop you before? If anyone can do it, I’m sure you can, Annie.”

Her friend’s encouragement was sincere. Maybe even a little too sincere. It didn’t feel right to leave her hanging. “Oh _ Mercie_...you know I can’t say no to you,” she sighed. “I suppose… if it’s for _ you_, I can write a song about him.”

“For me?”

“Y-yes! For _ you_.”

“I see,” Mercedes giggled. “Well then. I’m sure it will be excellent.”


	5. Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What! I’m not that skilled, you know,” she giggled. “You’re looking for a weather phenomenon, Felix. Not a well-executed wind spell!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please make sure to get at least 7-8 hours of sleep each night.

A thick fog rolled across the ground and weaved its way through the forest trees. The conditions were less than optimal for taking care of the giant beasts they were tasked with eliminating on today's mission. With such poor visibility, it was hard to imagine how effective their archers would be, even with the protection of the trees. It was a wonder their group already managed to whittle down half the monsters in record time.

Felix leaned against a nearby tree as he awaited the next round of orders. He rubbed the back of his hand across his cheek. His skin felt damp and clammy from the mist. In fog this heavy, he wasn't even sure he'd see the signal from the professor. But worst case scenario, Felix was positive he'd have no issues dispatching monsters solo, even if the weather left him feeling lightheaded. It wouldn't be the first time he worked alone.

Except the swordsman wasn't working alone today. And his adjutant was making it very difficult to maintain his concentration. After spending the better part of the morning trekking across the woods at the onset of their campaign, Annette finally seemed more relaxed in his company, while he was growing increasingly anxious and disoriented by contrast.

The fog near his feet suddenly swirled. Annette pulled her cloak closer and spun in a small circle behind him, then came to a stop and marveled at the mist curling and twisting with her movements. "Wow, I've never seen fog like this before," she said with hushed wonderment, "It's like fluffy peaks of meringue on top of a pie!"

Her comparison was amusing. With a bit of squinting and the suspension of disbelief, he could almost imagine it himself. He hastily swallowed back a smile before it could fully form. "Don't get too distracted," Felix warned, "stay alert."

"I am alert! As alert as I can be in these conditions, anyways."

"Hm," he half-answered. Her bright hair stood out like a glowing beacon, the most visible color in their secluded pocket within the fog. Felix momentarily covered his eyes with the back of his hand in hopes it would discourage him from staring at her again. If this was some kind of new magic technique, he was powerless in its presence. It didn't help that he spent the night before lying awake trying not to think about pairing up together for their mission. Every time he closed his eyes, incomplete stanzas from Annette's library song drifted through his head. The lack of sleep left him feeling feverish and restless.

_We've worked adjacent to each other countless times. Why is this time different?_

The sounds of clashing steel echoed overhead accompanied by the guttural groan of a felled beast.

"Ah! Was that the Professor?" Annette whirled around and readied her stance. "I didn't hear him give the signal!"

Felix tsked irritably. It was impossible to know what was happening or even which direction the fighting was in. A proper clash was just the remedy he needed to take his mind off the heat constantly rising to his face every time Annette met his eyes. He called back at her hopefully, "Any chance you can cast something to clear away the fog?"

"What! I'm not _that_ skilled, you know," she giggled. "You're looking for a weather phenomenon, Felix. Not a well-executed wind spell!"

"I guess."

"Speaking of meringue pie," Annette twirled around again, her sunny demeanor returning instantly as she flipped the subject back to the earlier talk of sweets, "what's your preference? Lemon? Lime? Orange chiffon? Although you really do seem more like a lemon meringue sort of person, I think."

"I don't care much for sweets."

"Ahh," she chirped in a sing-song voice and spun around again, "that's right, I forgot."

"Stop moving around so much. You're going to get lost in the fog."

"Hmph," she huffed, her mood dampening at the sound of his scolding. "I bet you'd _like_ that, wouldn't you?"

"What?"

"All this, 'I work alone, don't pair me with anyone, _oooh_, stand back while I single-handedly eliminate half the monsters because I'm completely invincible,' attitude of yours!" Annette waved her hands and puffed out her chest in attempts to imitate him. The gesture was obviously meant to look intimidating, but with her tiny stature and delicate features, it came across as unintentionally endearing instead of fierce.

"I...I don't sound like that!" Felix sputtered. The tips of his ears burned uncomfortably. In fact, all of him felt flushed.

"Yes you do! You literally said almost exactly that on our last mission! So I might as well just go find Mercedes and be _her_ adjutant instead. _She_ wouldn't forget the rest of my song!"

_Oh. That's what this is about._

Another clattering racket resonated through the fog. This one sounded even closer than the last. Whatever orders the Professor was relaying, they weren't reaching them in time, and someone else in their party was taking care of the monsters.

Annette wrinkled her nose with a frown, misinterpreting his silence as disinterest. "Whatever, Felix! I can tell when I'm not wanted. You really are the worst!"

"I-I didn't say that," he raised a hand to object, but she was already tearing off through the mist. Another wave of dizziness washed over him, and he steadied himself against the tree. It felt unusual seeing Annette so worked up, and watching her break formation was even more unusual.

_Then again, this day is full of unusual inconveniences._

Felix sighed. The last thing he needed was getting reprimanded by the professor for splitting from his adjutant. It wouldn't look good, especially after he raised a fuss yesterday. The swordsman unsteadily swayed in place, then began pacing towards the direction his companion ran off once the dizzy spell passed.

"Annette?"

No answer.

"_Annette._ Come on."

He pushed through the bushes. Breaking the professor's formation without receiving order gradually became less of a concern. Instead, a new fear took hold, churning in his stomach with every passing step. Even though he knew Annette was formidable in her magical prowess, the thought of her stumbling upon a cluster of beasts and getting caught unawares still didn't sit well with him.

Another throaty growl reverberated through the air. The familiar scent of magic prickled at the inside of his nose. A spell was cast nearby, and its lingering odor mingled with the fog. Felix felt his hand drift towards his hilt as his pace quickened. The sound of his feet crunching on the brush underfoot was drowned out by the pounding of his heart in his ears.

A clear voice cut through the haze. Its tone was light and sweet. His ears perked at the sound.

"_Beasties and baddies, step aside! We'll take you down, one at a time!_"

Felix lowered his eyes and let his ears guide him. The very same training he put to the test in sensing his opponents' moves took over as he tried to follow the singing voice.

"_Flap and scratch and growl and howl, now stand still_—_I'll cast my spell! Blam, kabam!"_

A small explosion burst from just beyond the bushes. Felix finally stumbled through into another clearing. Annette's red hair stood out like a bright, sunny speck bobbing above the mist. The young woman nimbly hopped backwards and did a mock curtsey as the beast towering opposite her collapsed from the force of her spell.

She turned her head at the sound of snapping branches and met his eyes. His pulse quickened. Whatever anger from their earlier squabble was completely gone from her expression and was instead replaced by a combination of pride and embarrassment. "O-oh," Annette flustered, "I know we agreed on no singing, but I figured it's so _foggy_, it's not like I was giving my location away!"

A rush of relief flooded through him at the sight of her. He struggled to form some kind of coherent sentence. Something. _Anything_. Even if it was chastising her for running away. He reached out and steadied himself against a nearby tree. "Do you have any idea how _stupid_ that was?!"

"It probably wasn't the _best_ of ideas, but it all worked out in the end!" she gestured to the fallen beast. "So it's all fine now! You're not the only one who can hold their own, you know." Annette hesitated. He could feel her eyes on him. She tilted her head and cast him a concerned look. "Felix...are you okay? You don't look so great."

"...All fine now, huh? That's… that's a pathetic excuse for running off. You know making rash decisions like that can mean the difference between life and death in battle!"

She frowned. The fog surrounding them seemed to grow thicker with each passing moment. The uncomfortable twisting sensation in his stomach only worsened as she continued to scrutinize him. His face felt like it was on fire.

"You really aren't looking so good—" she took another step forward and reached out, her fingers brushing against his forehead. The remnants of her last magic spell tingled against his skin, and Felix recoiled in panic at her touch.

"I-I didn't forget," he blurted without warning.

"Huh?"

"The end of your song," he struggled to focus on her, but his concentration was slipping again. It felt like the mist was threatening to swallow him whole. "I... I don't forget any of your songs. I told you...they're permanently etched in my memory."

"W...what are you saying?!" her cheeks flushed pink. "This has nothing to do with me or my songs! Felix, you look _horrible_! In fact—"

But whatever she said next never reached his ears. Felix felt his knees give out from underneath him and fell to the forest floor as he succumbed to the fever.


	6. Diminuendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you have to ask, you didn't get the point of the song!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not good for your teeth to eat lemons.

"W-where are you going?! I just got here!"

Annette barely crossed the threshold of Garreg Mach's infirmary carrying a simple tray from the dining hall. She cast the monastery's medical professor a panicked glance, but Manuela was too busy dusting her cheeks with a powder puff to pay much attention. "He'll be _fine_. You're not children anymore, and it's not like he has anything serious—the fever broke hours ago," the older woman quipped as she touched up her lipstick. "Anyways. I have...a prior engagement this evening, so I really can't stay behind. I'm sure you understand."

"Not really…" Annette frowned in response.

"Don't worry. If you're _really_ in a bind, I'm sure Hanneman will lend a hand," Manuela chuckled to herself as she grabbed her satchel. "I'll be back in a few hours...maybe. Actually, scratch that, if things go in my favor I probably won't be back until tomorrow morning," she added under her breath and adjusted her shawl as she strolled past Annette

"B-but—!"

Manuela clicked the door shut. The steam from the hot cup of tea sitting atop the tray curled upwards without a care. Annette sighed and lowered herself into the nearest chair by the occupied infirmary bed after setting the tray down.

After a moment of silence, she cast a wary glance at Felix's sleeping form next to her. The indigo blanket draped across the bed was thick and fluffy. It was unusual to see the stern swordsman looking so cozy, although she imagined anyone would look peaceful and snug when wrapped up in the infirmary bedding. But for someone who typically wore a scowl on their face, his sleeping expression was much softer and not at all unpleasant to look at.

"Hmph." Annette blushed and looked away. After all those weeks flustering under his stare, it didn't feel right to return the gesture and gawk at him sleeping, no matter how peaceful he looked. A steady rain pelted the windowpanes. The constant drumming rhythm was comforting. She couldn't help but study his face again. In sleep, his expression was calm. When was the last time she actually got a good look at him like this?

"This is all my fault," Annette sighed. "If...if I hadn't run off in the fog…"

_ I should have been looking more closely from the start…maybe I would've noticed he wasn't feeling well. _

She shook her head. If he was sick, splitting up wouldn't have changed that in the first place. Felix wasn't the type to complain, and she couldn't even recall a single instance where the swordsman had ever fallen ill. If anything, he'd probably chalk it up to 'showing weakness' or something like that.

"You know, keeping that sort of thing to yourself doesn't do you any favors," Annette chastised out loud. "Next time don't be so stubborn and say something if you feel sick! In fact, if you had simply spoken up, we wouldn't have deployed in the first place."

That was true. The professor never would have sent them out on the mission if he knew Felix was ill. Which meant they wouldn't have worked together, and she wouldn't have been set as his adjutant...a notion that didn't exactly sit well with Annette despite all the protests she made earlier to Mercedes.

"And...then you wouldn't have to work with me. Isn't that what you wanted in the first place?"

_ Maybe that's why he didn't say anything. Because he wanted to work together? _

The idea was laughably self-centered. Annette instantly felt ashamed for even entertaining the thought. She swung her feet behind the chair legs and let her mind wander to less embarrassing topics. Stopping by with hot tea without confirming if Felix was even awake first was probably not the best decision.

_ Then again, going out on a mission when he was sick with a fever wasn't the best decision either! _

It didn't take much work to rally the rest of their team up once the swordsman passed out in the bushes, and thanks to Professor Byleth's quick thinking, they were able to quickly transport Felix to the infirmary without any mishaps. Annette wondered just how Byleth managed to move so quickly across the forest in such a thick fog, but the days of questioning whatever strange, new abilities their professor acquired had long since passed. The man was full of mystery, and it was better to leave those questions unanswered. But there were other questions she_ did _want the answers to…

_ He said he remembered all my songs. I wonder if that's true. _

A new song quietly stirred awake within her imagination, a continuation of the fragments she started piecing together while traipsing through the fog earlier in the day. She closed her eyes and searched for the right words, then began to hum to herself without any direction or predetermined melody. Her feet swung in time with the tune from beneath the chair.

_"A bitter lemon, sour and sharp, you cut through every dish you meet…"_

Annette paused and glanced over at the steaming mug of tea—lemon and honey, a combination Mercedes heartily recommended as the perfect companion for a pesky fever.

_ "All that's missing to curb your edge is a little dash of something sweet!" _

A satisfied smile slowly spread across her face. Rhyming wasn't a requirement when crafting new songs, but if a rhyme just so happened to conveniently fall into place, well...it was a pleasant surprise all the same.

"Lemons, huh? No meringue this time?"

"F-Felix! How long have you been awake?!"

The swordsman darted her a curious look, then closed his eyes and frowned. Annette didn't doubt Manuela's assurances that his fever had passed, but color still lingered across his cheeks. For a fleeting moment she almost considered reaching out and touching his forehead again, but she quickly shook the thought from her mind.

"Long enough," he answered after a pause and looked at her again. "Why lemons?"

"Well…_you're_ like a lemon, you see."

Another silent stretch passed between them. She played with the cuff of her sleeves and desperately tried to push down the flush of embarrassment coloring her face.

_ Augh, there goes Annette again! Saying funny things about food! _

"...How am I like a _lemon_?"

"If you have to ask, you didn't get the point of the song!"

"No, I think I got it," Felix's brow furrowed. "Bitter, sour, _and_ sharp, in fact."

_ Urk_.

How could she have doubted his memory? Spot-on, as usual.

Which meant he really _was_ telling the truth about remembering the lyrics to her library song.

Which meant the entire source of their argument was founded on absolutely _nothing_.

Which meant she made an absolute fool of herself in _addition_ to likening him to a lemon, of all things.

"Ughhhh…" Annette buried her face in her hands. "Just forget it!"

"I'd...rather not," he responded after a pause and looked away.

"You have to!"

"Are you yelling at someone in the infirmary now?"

"I'm not yelling! Well, _maybe_ I am, but you look plenty healthy to me! So just forget what you heard, okay?!"

"You're asking me to forget a song about myself. That's next to impossible," Felix's tone was flat.

_ Augh. It's just like Mercie said. Obviously he's not going to forget! Why did I even listen in the first place?! Of course she was right all along! _

But Annette couldn't ignore the little spark of delight glowing inside upon hearing his guarantee. Every single song he clearly remembered. It motivated her to make sure each new piece was up to his standards. After all, she was performing for an audience now, right?

"Fine then, if you won't forget, you'll just have to wait for me to finish writing this one next!"

"I don't know, it seemed pretty complete to me."

"Really?"

Felix frowned again and almost appeared to sink deeper into the pillow, as if he were shirking away from her watchful eyes. "If you have to ask, you didn't get the point of the song," he muttered. His choice of words—the same accusation she made moments earlier—did not go unnoticed.

"W-what's _that_ supposed to mean, Felix?! It's my song, of course I know the point! _I'm_ the one who came up with it!"

"And _I'm_ the lemon, so what's that make you?"

"That'd obviously make _me_ the honey!"

Oh.

_ Oh. _

The unintentional implication behind her words slowly dawned on her. Even if that wasn't the initial meaning she intended by the metaphor, it was a marked shift from his literal interpretation of her library song. Annette immediately rose from the chair and dusted herself off, suddenly desiring nothing more than to run out the door.

"Anyways! This tea is for you. But you seem totally recovered, so I'm sure you don't even _need_ it! Professor Manuela is out, so I'll leave you to your peace and quiet, just like you prefer!"

"Tch," he promptly rolled over.

Annette strode to the door with a scowl. It served her right for getting all worked up. Just another song for him to add to his embarrassing list. Thankfully there was no silly dance to accompany it. But making awkward metaphors felt ten times worse than simply twirling around with a feather duster when no one was watching.

Her hand rested on the door handle in mid-turn when he spoke again, his voice quiet.

"Thanks for the tea."

"...You're welcome."


	7. Pianissimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes laced her fingers together and offered another soft smile. There was something different twinkling in her eyes. He didn’t like that look one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this misunderstanding cleared up.

Mercedes lowered her clasped hands once the choir hymn reached its completion and gave her singing partner a gentle smile. “Oh, Felix! How wonderful to see you’re up and about again. And already joining us for choir, even better.”

“The professor sent me,” he answered blandly. “It wasn't by choice.”

The remainder of the choir group dispersed. Felix motioned to resume his day, but something held him back. He sensed the woman’s eyes following him from behind. He looked over his shoulder and confirmed his suspicions. 

“What.”

“I’m just delighted to see you’re feeling better,” she was still smiling. “Actually, I was hoping to chat with you, if you have a moment?”

“Not really. I’m already behind with my training after missing a day.”

The response wasn’t entirely a fib, but it also wasn’t wholly true. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays were often Annette’s turn on kitchen duty. If he managed to time his arrival just right, he might possibly walk by in time for another song...maybe the fabled dish soap ditty Sylvain referenced in passing—

“Really?” Mercedes raised an eyebrow. There was something almost ethereal about her as she stood in the colored light filtering through the Garreg Mach’s breathtaking stained glass window. Although Felix didn’t consider himself overtly religious, lying to Mercedes—especially when she carried the demeanor of an angel—didn’t feel appropriate. 

He sighed. “I can spare a moment.”

“Oh no, I would hate to inconvenience you—”

“I’ve already spared a moment having this conversation. What is it?”

She smiled again. The sounds of the organist adjusting their tune in the background murmured through the chapel as if underscoring the shift in their conversation. “I was wondering if you enjoyed your tea.”

“Tea?”

“The tea Annie brought you, of course,” she tilted her head. “Oh dear, did she change her mind? She had such a difficult time picking the right blend for a fever.”

_ Oh. That tea. _

“It was fine,” he admitted. The tea itself wasn’t the problem. The problem was Annette’s damned song magic. The entire source of his problems stemmed back to it. Losing sleep, lowering his defenses, reducing his immune system… 

Felix struggled to suppress a scowl in front of Mercedes as he reflected on the lemon and honey metaphor and the accompanying melody. Annette’s newest song was stubbornly pervasive and somehow managed to sink all the way to the deepest layers of his subconscious even when sleeping. Just recalling her bright recitation of the lyrics the night before left him wanting more. He regretted not asking her to stay and sing for him again.

“Felix?” 

“_What._”

“Are you sure you’re feeling better…?” The look on Mercedes’s face was one he’d seen many times before. He knew it instantly—she had slipped into ‘big sister’ mode without trying again. Which meant whatever look was on _ his _ face was enough to trigger her sisterly senses. 

“I’m better. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You look flushed...”

“I’m _ fine_. I told you before, stop worrying so much about me. I can take care of myself.”

She nodded apologetically. “I’m sorry, I never meant to imply you couldn’t. But please be careful. Everyone was worried about you.”

“Everyone, huh?” he snorted. There were a few choice individuals he suspected were absent from that list.

“You shouldn’t underestimate the compassion of others.”

The discussion was beginning to stray into the territory of feelings, another topic he wasn’t too keen to unpack. “Worry about yourself.”

“Of course, you’re right.”

The organist wrapped up their practice, and a gaggle of nuns flitted past on their way to lunch. Felix was growing restless. At this rate he would miss kitchen duty.

“So, did you enjoy it? Was it memorable?”

“What?”

Mercedes laced her fingers together and offered another soft smile. There was something different twinkling in her eyes. He didn’t like that look one bit. “The song, of course.” 

“Choir hymnals are the same as always. I don’t care either way,” he frowned. Hopefully that was the song she was referring to, but something in her smile said otherwise.

“I meant Annie’s newest song. She did mention she was working on something just for you, after all.”

_ Just for me? _

“She did, did she.” It wasn’t a question. But prodding for more details felt embarrassing. 

“Hm, she did say she wasn’t finished with it yet,” Mercedes sighed. “Maybe I spoke too soon. I certainly hope I didn’t ruin the surprise!”

That unsettling sensation pressing against his chest returned in full force. Felix was starting to wonder just how long this inconvenient magic was going to continue hindering him. He folded his arms in thought, then stared back up at her. 

“Mercedes.”

“Yes?”

The question that had taken root weeks earlier was bothering him. If there was one person he knew who had decent magical aptitude _a__nd _wouldn’t try to bowl him over with nonsense, it was Mercedes. Felix was confident she would be entirely honest with him. “Is there such a thing as song magic?”

“Song… _ magic_?”

“Yes.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then suddenly hesitated. That knowing look in her eyes was back. He disliked it even more than before. “Goodness, Felix. Are you planning on changing your class already?”

“_No._”

“I was going to say,” Mercedes’s laughter was airy and light, without even the faintest hint of prejudice, “you would be setting yourself up for an unfortunate disappointment. I’ve never heard of such magic. I believe you’re already doing well enough for yourself on your current path.”

“Hn,” he grunted. So that was that. It really didn’t exist. Sylvain was telling the truth after all. 

“But there is something magical about music, I will agree. Sometimes, even standing right here, it’s as though I can sense the goddess’s presence when I am singing with others.”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

“I know it wasn’t.” Mercedes voice was as soft as always, but her words felt uncomfortably heavy in his ears. She seemed to sense his unease and offered another kindly smile. “But regardless, I’m glad to see you are feeling better all the same.”

“Whatever. I have things to do.”

“I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he spun on his heel to resume his walk. 

“Oh, and Felix?” Mercedes called out to him. 

He sighed and stopped mid-stride. “What?”

“Please say hello to Annie for me when you see her in the kitchen.”


	8. Comprimario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I believe you,” he answered without hesitation. Dedue’s posture eased slightly after another pause, as if he were carefully weighing his next words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comprimari are supporting roles in an opera with no significant songs, but their existence may still be vital to the plot.
> 
> Dedue and Annette have a nice support chain too. I enjoyed it.

A watched pot never boils. But a pot containing a sizeable batch of stew intended for dozens of people, sitting over a low flame, and covered with a sturdy lid...that's a different story. This particular pot was more than eager to pitch a fit the second it was left unattended. Thick waves of foamy broth bubbled over the edge with alarming speed as the lid jostled helplessly. 

“Ohh...no! Nononono, _ noooo_—!”

Annette groaned as she struggled to contain the mess. Bits of potato and carrot began to spatter across the kitchen and landed in her hair. 

“Wow, it smells great in here. What’s—_oh_. Oh no, Annette! What happened?”

“I-Ingrid!” Annette flustered at the sight of her comrade. “I swear, I was paying attention this time!” 

The young woman strode across the kitchen with an air of authority and immediately shifted into damage control. She tossed a tea towel over to Annette, then turned her focus towards the bubbling pot. “How did this even manage to overflow? The flame is so low,” Ingrid marveled with a frown. “I’m actually impressed.”

“Smells great?” Sylvain peered around the corner and hung back. He seemed more than happy to watch Ingrid manage the mess without getting directly involved himself. “Methinks it smells like _disaster._”

“Very helpful, Sylvain,” Ingrid sighed as she mopped up the foam running down the edge of the pot. “Are you just going to stand there and gawk, or are you actually going to be useful?”

“You ladies seem like you’re handling things just fine! It wouldn’t do me any good to cut the show short.”

Suddenly the lid rattled even more violently than before, then launched itself across the kitchen. Ingrid narrowly dodged the projectile with a nimble sidestep as it whizzed by, barely missing a few strands of her blonde hair. The lid struck its mark with a resounding gong.

“Ineffective.”

The party stared in silence. Dedue stood unflinchingly in the doorway, the pot’s lid resting in a crumpled heap at his feet. Not a single dent or scratch marked his breastplate. 

The color drained from Annette’s face, and she immediately rushed over in a frenzied panic. “Ohmigosh. Ohmi_gosh_, Dedue, I-I’m so, _so _sorry!” 

“I am fine,” he calmly replied. “Are you all right?”

“Y-yes!” 

“The _lid _ isn’t all right…” Sylvain reached down and lifted the scrunched remnants of the pot lid. He turned it over in his hands, then looked back at Dedue and let out a low whistle. “Man, you really _ are _impenetrable.”

“I will accept that as a compliment.” 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t an _ insult_.”

Ingrid shook her head as she finished wiping her hands clean. “I was able to salvage most of the stew and set it aside. Is there anything else I can do? Sylvain and I were on our way to work in the stables before lunch, but I don’t want to leave you behind if you still need help.”

“No...I’ll clean the rest up,” Annette sighed. “Thank you, Ingrid.”

Sylvain leaned against the kitchen wall with his hands behind his head. “Ah, there’s nothing comparable to the beauty of watching women work together. What teamwork. Maybe you two are better suited to take care of stable duty today instead after such a display.”

“Ugh,” Ingrid flashed him a scowl. “You’re not getting out of chores that easily. Let’s go,” she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the kitchen. Sylvain’s protests continued through the halls until it was quiet once more. Dedue remained standing off to the side as if uncertain what to do. Despite his impressive stature and stony expression, Annette could sense he felt unsettled.

A lone bubble in the pot of stew rose to the surface and popped, breaking the lingering silence. Annette sighed and slumped over. All her earlier motivation for kitchen duty was rapidly deflating. “I can’t believe it. I thought I was making such great progress, and then…”

“Annette, are you injured? Did you burn yourself?”

“N-no, I’m fine…” she groaned and covered her face in embarrassment. “Only my pride is wounded…”

“I am certain you will recover. No one here will harshly judge you.”

“Maybe so, but...Dedue, I took all your advice to heart! This time I was _ certain _I was paying attention and keeping watch! No negligence!”

“I believe you,” he answered without hesitation. Dedue’s posture eased slightly after another pause, as if he were carefully weighing his next words, “My advice was merely meant to be taken as a preventative measure. Sometimes we cannot anticipate the unexpected, no matter how much we prepare.”

“I guess so…” Annette sighed again and began folding the tea towel she used to wipe down the mess. “Actually, no. That’s not entirely true. I’ve been distracted,” she shook her head. “So maybe I really wasn’t as attentive as I thought before.”

“I see.”

“I suppose that means I wasn’t following your advice as closely as I thought after all, huh?”

Something indiscernible briefly flickered across his countenance. “I am also guilty of this.”

“Huh?”

“Your advice to me. As of late… I am having a difficult time remembering to smile.”

“Oh...oh _no _ Dedue, please don’t feel bad!” Annette wrung the stained tea towel in her hands. “I never intended for my advice to be something you should _ force _yourself to do!”

“I wish to smile more. If it means seeing the smiles of others, it is a worthwhile effort.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to do it _ all _the time,” she tsked. “What good would it be if a smile wasn’t authentic? That’s not what I meant at all!”

“Yes. Likewise, my advice was about paying attention to your surroundings, which is not the same as encountering surprises.”

“Exactly! So—w...wait.”

The smallest hint of a smile teased at the corner of his lips. The meaning behind his words slowly sank in. Just as her advice was not meant to apply all the time, neither was his. 

_ Oh, Dedue… _

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you succeeded,” she couldn’t help but giggle. After all the recent stress from their latest mission, it felt good hearing reassurance. “And I think I know why you’re having a difficult time smiling…” The image of Dimitri’s harried face came to mind. As the war continued to drag on, it was hard not to reflect back on simpler, happy days and the carefree time spent in the company of her classmates before everything changed.

Dedue quietly picked up the damaged pot lid and ran his thumb along the edge. “Yes,” his smile from earlier was replaced with something more pensive. “Is this why you are distracted?”

_ Why I’m distracted… _

She was suddenly wringing the tea towel in her hands again. The scowl of a certain ill-tempered swordsman immediately floated to the surface of her thoughts. “Oh...um… no, not exactly. I mean…”

Guilt nagged away at the back of Annette’s mind. What began as a kindly visit with an offering of tea and a song managed to once again spiral into an argument. There didn’t seem to be any malice behind Felix’s assertions, but she still couldn’t help herself from yelling. Except after this argument, she felt _ guilty, _a new and very unwelcome sensation. 

It was hard to decide what exactly was going on in her stomach. Anxious butterflies? Part of her wanted to immediately run back to the infirmary and apologize, but it didn’t feel appropriate. The other part wanted to run and hide and wipe all memories of every single song from his mind. It was easier to simply do nothing and proceed as if they never spoke.

But it was becoming difficult to concentrate, more difficult than she thought possible. The discovery of her father’s presence at Garreg Mach and his subsequent refusal to acknowledge her in the hallways was difficult enough. Annette thought nothing would be more agonizing or distracting than that awful passing encounter ages ago. After all those years working towards securing a referral, the tireless all-nighters studying to score higher than anyone else at the magic academy, the training and battling and everything in between..._finally _ the very person she sought after all along was within her reach but felt farther away than ever before. 

But for some reason _ Felix _ of all people was proving to be even more distracting...albeit in a more dizzying, bewildering way. The bubbling pot of stew was only one more incident in a long line of embarrassments. Thankfully no one was around to watch her walk into a wall, and her mismatched socks were easy enough to conceal, but…

_ I’m more than distracted, I’m a mess! _

A low, metallic ting rattled Annette from her thoughts. She looked up just in time to see the pot lid restored to its former, unwrinkled glory in Dedue’s hands. He turned it over, admiring his handiwork. 

“How… how did you do that?”

“What?”

“You…_unfolded _ the pot lid, Dedue!”

“I only did what needed to be done,” he quietly set the lid back atop the pot of stew. “I damaged the lid, so it was my responsibility to repair it.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!”

“No, but it still felt like the right thing to do,” Dedue answered. His expression softened. “I did tell you that no one will harshly judge you for the mess. Or are we no longer talking about the stew?”

“I...I think I owe someone an apology,” Annette admitted. “I really shouldn’t have yelled like that at all…”

“I see. So this is not about the stew.”

“No, but—oh! That gives me an idea! Dedue, what’s a tasty savory dish with lemons?!”

“Lemons…?”

“Yes!” 

“I will need some time to think.”

“That’s fine!” Annette felt her cheer returning in full force. “I’m sure whatever you come up with will be great! Ah, but it’s just about time for lunch, and I promised I’d meet Mercedes!”

A tiny smile crossed his face in return. “I will take over kitchen duty from here,” he nodded as she gathered her things and hastened out the door.

_ Dedue, you’re a genius! This is the perfect idea! _

The sound of her footsteps across Garreg Mach’s courtyard were light and full of purpose. For the first time since yesterday’s mission, Annette finally felt her focus returning. Her mind began to whir into action as she plotted her next move. A decent apology meal would more than suffice as reparations for shouting, and depending on the ingredients, it might even have the additional benefit in serving as an immune booster if Felix was still feeling unwell. But most of all, it would firmly cement his interpretation of her song as being more _ literal _ and less _ metaphorical. _

Because literal meanings were easier. Literal meanings didn’t make her lightheaded. Literal meanings didn’t give her butterflies in her tummy. Literal meanings meant lemons and honey, _ not_— 

Her footsteps slowed as she approached the courtyard. A familiar tune hummed overhead. A _ very _ familiar tune. Annette felt her breath catch in her chest and suddenly ducked behind the hedge, then peered through the branches.

Felix rounded the corner, his gait steady and his sword lightly tapping against his hip with each step. Although the sound was faint, his idly hummed tune was instantly recognizable. Annette wondered if he was even aware he was humming. But even more surprising was the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips. Humming was one thing, but _ smiling _ was even more uncommon. 

A louder set of footsteps approached and drowned out the sound of Felix’s humming. Professor Byleth sprinted up the cobblestone path and came to a halt in front of the swordsman. Despite his frantic running, the professor's expression remained cool, and somehow he didn’t even manage to break a sweat. 

“Professor.” Felix stopped and gave Byleth an acknowledging nod. His fleeting smile was gone as if it never happened. 

“Are you busy?”

“I…” Felix frowned. His eyes darted over to the dining hall. “I was on my way to get lunch before training. Why?”

“I’m inviting you to tea.”

“_Tea time_? You _ just _ invited me to a meal earlier with Ashe.”

Byleth stared back. “Exactly. So why are you getting lunch?”

“B-because I’m _ hungry_, why else?”

“Excellent. Tea time it is.”

If Felix was attempting to mask his discomfort, he was doing a poor job. Her heart ached. Annette immediately sensed his unwillingness to accompany Byleth to tea, but she knew it was hard to say no to the professor. She briefly contemplated leaping from the bushes and offering him a bail-out, accepting the tea party invitation in his stead. But that would mean admitting to spying on them, which most likely would make Felix even more disgruntled. 

The swordsman cast another frustrated glance in the direction of the dining hall and sighed. “First choir participation, now tea. This better be worth my time.”

“It will be.”

Annette pressed herself against the hedge and winced as the sharp branches needled into her back. The last thing she wanted was to get caught eavesdropping. There was a pause before Felix sighed again, then two wordless sets of footsteps departed in the opposite direction from where she hid. This time there was no humming. 

After what felt like an eternity holding her breath, Annette finally exhaled. Her heart was racing.

_ That...that was _ my _ song. The same one from last night. _


	9. Divertimento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another question from Byleth went partially unheard. This one actually sounded worthwhile. Felix frowned. “What did you say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that macarons and macaroons are two different kinds of cookies?

“Why am I here?”

A steaming cup of Almyran pine needle blended tea rested daintily atop the porcelain saucer, its scent bold and rich. Felix’s favorite, in fact. Somehow the professor always knew. But despite the flawless tea selection and pleasantly mild breeze wafting through Garreg Mach monastery’s courtyard, Felix wanted nothing more than to spring up from his chair and tear off to the dining hall instead. 

_ So much for kitchen duty. I should’ve known this was going to be one of those days… _

All his best attempts at slipping away were foiled at every turn. If it wasn’t choir participation with Mercedes, it was sharing a meal with Ashe, and now _ tea time_. Almost as if the professor _ knew _he had his own agenda and was determined to intervene at every possible opportunity...

“—cute monks?”

Byleth sat opposite him at the wicker table, his own teacup catching the mid-afternoon sunlight off its gold-gilded rim. He looked at Felix expectantly. 

“What?”

“Hm.”

Despite missing the first half of Byleth’s comment, the ending was stupid enough that Felix decided it wasn’t worth dignifying with a request to repeat. His professor’s attempts at making conversation only left Felix feeling even more agitated than before. “What kind of a question is that?”

Byleth stared back wordlessly and sipped his tea. 

_ Is this some kind of silent challenge?! _

“Heh. I get it now. I should’ve known. I’ve been underestimating you, haven’t I?” Felix drank from his own cup and returned the stare. “You’ve been dictating my every move since I left the infirmary. You’re _ planning _something, aren’t you?”

“Overcoming weaknesses takes work,” the professor casually answered. 

“_Weaknesses_?!” Felix banged a fist on the table. The teacups rattled threateningly, but not one drop of tea was lost. “Then I was right. This _ is _ about our recent mission. Maybe if you didn’t constantly get in my way, I’d be off _ training _instead of entertaining another one of your tea parties! With your talent, anything less than sparring is a waste of time.”

A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over him. Waking up in the infirmary was not the kind of victory celebration he was anticipating. It wasn’t enough to suffer an embarrassing moment of weakness from falling ill, now the professor was rubbing salt in the wound by filling his free time with idle nonsense. 

“What are you _ really _up to, professor?” 

Byleth closed his eyes and deeply inhaled a cloud of steam from his teacup. The twittering of spring larks atop the nearby gazebo started to sound more like jeering taunts as the seconds slipped by without an answer. 

“I’ve been given a clean bill of health and was properly discharged from the infirmary. It _ won’t _be happening again,” Felix added.

More silence. 

_ No. That’s not it. If this was about strength, the professor would be saddling me with extra training. _

“Weaknesses, huh…”

Up until recently, the explanation for his bewildering weakness was simple. But now things weren’t so simple. His mind wandered back to the earlier morning’s choir activity, Mercedes’s knowing smile, and her delicate voice. 

_ “I’ve never heard of such magic.” _

Mercedes had no reason to lie. Her words were utterly transparent with no room for ambiguity whatsoever. Even as Annette’s best friend, Felix knew she had nothing to gain from covering up any sort of magical foul-play. Sylvain was right all along, which in a way felt even more pathetic. 

The entire thing was ridiculous from the start. How could he be so foolish to imagine that _ Annette _ of all people would be malicious enough to use antagonistic magic on her own comrades? No matter how much she yelled at him, Felix knew she didn’t have a single vengeful bone in her body. Besides, it didn’t make sense. Why would she insist he forget her songs, then bewitch him into being _ unable _ to forget?

_ Because it wasn’t magic to begin with. _

Things would be easier if it was some kind of bizarre magic, because then Felix would have a familiar obstacle to retaliate against. Falling ill during battle was embarrassing enough. And every time he dwelled on _ that _embarrassment, a different sort of embarrassment would creep up alongside it. Annette’s song played through his head like a countermelody in sync with the drumming of his pulse whenever she came to mind. It wasn’t even her songs anymore. Just the sight of her red hair flashing through the halls was enough to leave him feeling disoriented.

But that was irrelevant, and thankfully wholly unknown to the professor. Allowing himself to get distracted—without the convenient excuse of _ magic_—was infinitely worse than the embarrassment of winding up in the infirmary. This was a new sort of weakness, possibly the very same weakness Byleth had in mind when assigning him today’s tasks.

_ Choir participation, shared meals, tea time...what’s the common thread? _

Byleth looked up from his teacup as if sensing the unspoken question. “Well?”

“Well _ what_?”

“I told you. I want you to harmonize better with the others.”

_ Harmonize. _

The memory of Mercedes’s gentle, yet uncomfortably observant gaze was immediately replaced with the vision of another face, this one cheery and bright. Annette’s smile as she sat next to his bed in the infirmary, her head bobbing back and forth as she pieced together her newest song, all the while blissfully oblivious to his watchful eyes and attentive ears, her soft melody weaving a story of lemons and honey, and maybe something more under the surface...

“—potential training partners?”

Another question from Byleth went partially unheard. This one actually sounded worthwhile. Felix frowned. “What did you say?”

“Can you think of any potential training partners?”

“Annette.”

Her name tumbled out before Felix had a moment to even consider it. Byleth’s face remained blank, yet Felix felt his own grow uncomfortably warm. The professor’s indifferent reaction only made Felix’s accidental suggestion feel even worse. The birds singing from the gazebo were _ definitely _ridiculing him now if they weren’t before. He hated it.

More silence. 

“What. You don’t think I can do it, is that it? Because of our last mission?”

_ Does he think he can continue challenging me by staying silent? Is this amusing to him? _

“Tch. I see what you’re playing at. You think I’m weak, and you're trying to pair me with others. _ That’s _ what this morning was all about. Crests, lineage, knighthood...trifles. Skill and survival are the only things that matter. But if you’re so convinced this is what I need to overcome my _ weaknesses_…”

Byleth nodded encouragingly. 

“_Fine _ then—!” Felix slammed his hand down atop the table a second time. The dregs of his tea sloshed and splattered. “I accept your challenge. _ I’ll _ be the adjutant this time. That’s what you wanted, right?”

The professor slowly chewed on a macaron from the tray of sweets without answering.

That same disconcerting sensation that was becoming all-too familiar over the past several months settled back into place, nestling itself somewhere between his heart and ribcage. Beneath Byleth’s cool, collected gaze, Felix felt as though his professor could see straight through him. 

_ I don’t know if this is what the professor wants. _

_ ...But it’s what I want. _


	10. Ritenuto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He continued to frown. She wondered when he last smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's change things up a bit. I wouldn't consider this angsty, but introspective.
> 
> Very mild canon-typical violence, not sure if kicking the rating up to T is necessary.

She never saw his face. Usually only his back was visible. But his back was unforgettable. Broad, rigid, _ familiar_. Unchanging after all their years apart. The only difference was her own height, and even then just barely, given her petite stature. 

“Stop pretending you can’t see me!” 

Annette raced down the halls. How was it that they seemed to stretch neverendingly? The stones underneath her shoes felt increasingly cold with each heavy step. The clanking of his armor droned ahead of her, a steady metronome in contrast to the panicked thumping of her heartbeat in her ears. 

_ I can do this. _

“Father, _ please_—!”

He stopped in his tracks. 

The endless halls of Garreg Mach suddenly compressed like an accordion breathing tired, dissonant notes. She stumbled into him and tripped backwards. A soft patch of grass broke her fall. 

He finally turned around. 

Warm sunlight illuminated the back of his head, his red hair lit in a dazzling glow like the halos of the saints depicted in the chapel’s stained glass windows. Yet even facing her, the light shining at his back left his face in shadow. She couldn’t make out his features no matter how hard she tried. A large hand extended down to her. His palm was marked with years of scars and calluses from holding heavy weaponry, but it was _ his _ hand. Suddenly her own felt much tinier as it reached up to take hold. 

_ I can do this. _

“I told you to watch your step, Annette. Do you want to ride on my shoulders again?”

Rough fingers closed around hers with surprising tenderness. Those same hands were strong enough to effortlessly crush and destroy any of the king’s enemies. But Annette knew every ridge and scar. Countless times she’d watch those same hands delicately carve shapes and faces into wood, the same hands that tucked her in at night, the same hands that held mother’s face in the candlelight after dinner before settling into prayer. 

But just as Annette could never see his face, she also never managed to keep ahold of his hand. She felt her fingers slip through his palm and was suddenly alone again. 

The room was dark. 

The armchair she sat upon was was soft. Too soft. She felt her lower back sink into the cushion. The wings flanking either side seemed to tower over her. Her armchair’s matching pair stood opposite her, casting a long, unsteady shadow along the frayed rug resting atop the floorboards. Its occupant sat hunched over sobbing. 

“Please..._please _ don’t cry, mother.”

Her mother’s crying form continued to weep. Long, fair hair cascaded down her shoulders. Its usual lustrous sheen—her mother’s pride and joy and her father’s favorite feature to compliment—was strewn about in dull tangles.

“Mother… I promise, I’m going to find him. So please don’t cry.”

_ I can do this. _

She hummed a quiet tune. Like her father’s face, she never saw her mother’s either. But Annette knew it was better that way. The memory of her mother’s tears haunted her enough during waking hours. It was easier when her subconscious protected her. Her mother’s sobs slowed and softened to barely a whimper as she listened to Annette’s song. 

_ “A lonely sock without its mate, a set of china missing a plate, _

_ “No matter how far apart they stray, reunited again, they’ll find a way. _

_ “Keep your smile bright even when you stand alone, _

_ “To help those you’ve lost find their way home…!” _

A cheerful song and smile were her strongest weapons in the face of grief, serving as a shield Annette could wield to protect her loved ones and herself at the same time. She reached out to provide a comforting touch, then suddenly sank even deeper into the armchair’s cushion with dizzying speed.

Something hard and unforgiving rose up underneath her, jostling her into a new seat.

The chairs at the magic academy were notorious for being rigid and ill-suited for long stretches of sitting. Although most students regularly complained, to Annette it was a convenient discomfort. After all, uncomfortable chairs were the perfect place to sit when staying up late studying. It was impossible to fall asleep with a stiff back and sore rump. She found herself hunched over an expanse of parchment detailing complex mathematical equations and spell conjugations. Her eyes strained in the weak candlelight to make sense of the formulas. 

_ I can do this. _

“No one works as hard as you, Annie. I really admire that about you,” Mercedes’s voice was soft as she stepped into the light. “I know you’ll pass this exam with flying colors… so are you sure you need stay awake all night?”

“Of course I can! I didn’t get this far only to quit!” Her voice was cheerful. The smile spreading across her lips felt heavy. Her eyelids felt heavy. Her shoulders felt heavy. Her _ heart _ felt heavy. But the only way to move forward was to smile, stay awake, and study. 

Mercedes abruptly pivoted and fired off a healing spell. Its warm tendrils spread out from Annette's core, washing away all her earlier exhaustion. They were standing in the middle of Gronder Field, and the air was thick with the sound of steel and magic. 

“Here’s something to believe in!”

There was a glowing flash as the Sword of the Creator whizzed through the air at her side. Flesh and bone splintered as it met its mark, and another bandit collapsed to his knees with a strangled groan. Her professor stood over the man’s corpse. His expression was devoid of malice or bloodlust. A ripple of admiration tinged with fear coursed through her at the sight of Byleth’s ruthlessness. But she would expect nothing less from a renowned mercenary, and in times of war even a moment of hesitation could mean the difference between life and death. 

_ I can do this. _

Another blade whistled behind her. With a single, fluid movement her fingertips were outstretched, and her wind spell sliced through the air. The force knocked the bandit back into the bushes. Even with his body out of sight, Annette already knew he would never stand again. Taking lives in the heat of battle never got any easier, but it was necessary in war. 

“Nice form.”

The compliment was fleeting. Before she even had a moment to process it, Felix dashed ahead and cut down two more bandits. Every muscle in his neck was tense, his motions nimble and fierce as he glided along with each step. His crest glowed mid-strike and illuminated his face in a gentle light, a stark contrast to the flecks of blood spattering across his cheek as his blade sank into the shoulder of the next bandit. 

His mouth was set in a grim frown.

The shouts and clamor of the battlefield grew softer and muffled. The hushed tones of the chapel’s organ blanketed the air with a delicate hum. Annette’s hands were clasped in prayer. The sounds of a familiar hymn floated overhead, and she couldn’t help but raise her voice in joyous excitement. 

_ I can do this. _

“Singing is so much fun! Everyone should enjoy themselves while they're doing it!”

Felix sighed. He lowered his hands at the completion of their prayer. “Not sure I should sing with everyone. I'm not great at harmonizing,” he grumbled.

His mouth was set in a grim frown once more. 

“Don’t say that,” she chastised. “Besides, I think you did great!”

He continued to frown. She wondered when he last smiled. She wondered if _ she _ could make him smile. Smiles came so naturally to her, even more than songs. Her songs were her weapon, fending off insecurities and grief alike. Smiles were her armor. They kept her safe. They gave her the strength to keep protecting her friends. 

She wondered if frowns were _ his _ armor. 

_ I can do this. _

Annette trailed behind him as he briskly walked across the monastery grounds. Felix hummed her newest song ahead of her. The sound was barely audible. His voice was low and steady, but the melody was undeniably hers. Was he smiling again like before? Loose strands of dark hair streamed behind him in the breeze. Hearing him murmuring her song under his breath left her chest feeling tight. 

“Felix—!” she called out to him. 

He stopped in his tracks. 

Suddenly she worried the garden would collapse around her, just like the monastery halls as she chased after her father again and again without end. But it wasn’t her father’s back she was following this time. 

“What?”

“I...want to see you smile again,” she admitted. “Did my song make you smile? Do you know what it’s about?” Even she wasn’t sure what her song was about. Annette stepped up next to him and desperately wanted to look into his face for the answer. But that would be risky. Another frown, maybe a scowl, or worse—nothing at all; all were likely expressions, and none she had the heart to see after asking the question.

“If you have to ask, you didn’t get the point of the song,” he answered after a pause, still looking straight ahead. 

_ I can do this. _

She reached down and laced her fingers through his. Even though her subconscious wasn’t entirely certain what the point of her song was, it felt right. Unlike her father's hand, this time Annette maintained her grip. She continued staring straight ahead while holding his hand, still afraid to look up at his face for answers. She wondered if he could feel her racing pulse through her fingertips.

Suddenly the scent of pine needles and leather tickled her nose as something warm and soft enveloped her. The all-too familiar sensation of the floor dropping out from underneath her returned, and Annette stirred. 

Her back and neck were stiff. She blinked groggily.

The Blue Lions classroom was dark and silent. Underneath her arms laid the spellbook she had been reading, and to the side her candle flickered cheerfully. Its wick was much lower than she recalled when she initially sat down to study.

_ I must've fallen asleep… _

The scent of pine and leather persisted even as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. As she sat up, her cheek brushed against something fluffy. Annette's fingers wandered to her side and grazed along the thick, heavy fabric draped across her shoulders. Someone must have covered her while she slept at the table.

_ This is… _

She immediately jumped to her feet. The cobalt blue cloak draped across her shoulders slid to the floor. Its fur trim seemed to glow in the candlelight. Annette caught her breath as the realization dawned on her. 

_ This is Felix's cloak. _

Suddenly her chest felt tight again as a second realization occurred to her.

_ I'm going to have to return this to him. _


	11. Poco a Poco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She laughed. He still liked the sound, even if its timbre was high and nervous. “You’re joking, right? Okay, okay, you’ve got me—where’s Sylvain? Did he put you up to this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what trope is even better than returning a loaned item? Unintentional kabedon.

Felix silently counted every strike through the air. His sword moved in perfect harmony with his arm, an effortless extension of himself, more like another appendage than a weapon. For each sweeping blow, the number slowly climbed. And with each number, a faceless, nameless foe materialized in his mind’s eye. 

_ “Don’t ever forget, Felix. Once you forget they’re human, you forget your own humanity. Be better than a beast.” _

His brother’s advice whispered in his ear. The same voice that kept count alongside him with every slice. Gone, but never forgotten. 

_ I have no intention of dying a ‘knight’s death.’ I only need to grow stronger. _

Felix twisted his foot to the side and slashed again and again at the phantom figures, keeping tempo with the rising count, which happened to sync up nicely with The Library Song (as much as he would prefer not to admit it). He had no intention of ever becoming a mindless beast, but in order to survive the battlefield, it would still require him to amass the strength of one. After his warm-up strikes, he took aim and swung once more.

_ Stronger. Faster. Never enough. _

The training dummy’s arm split clean off in a single strike. He lowered his blade as the severed arm hit the ground with a soft thud. The sound of applause broke the silence. 

“Wow! What a clean cut!”

His trance was broken. Felix fumbled and spun around, but he already knew who the onlooker was just by the sound of their voice. 

Annette stood at the training hall entrance, a lumpy bundle clutched to her chest. “O-oh no, did I break your concentration?! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! It’s just...you looked _ so cool_.”

“You didn’t. I’m done.”

“You’re done? Don’t feel like you need to stop because of me!”

He gestured to the wounded straw dummy. “It’s not like my target is about to stitch itself back up.”

“You’re right, I don’t think _ he’s _ moving anywhere anytime soon,” Annette giggled. The sound was nice. She broke her gaze away from the straw dummy and caught his eye. Something in his stomach flip-flopped. “Oh! But I’m glad I finally found you! I was looking everywhere for you.”

“Why?”

“I-I brought your cloak back!” Annette thrust the bundle into his arms. “I… well...I made sure to clean it first before bringing it back, it was _ Mercie’s _ idea,” she added quickly.

The neatly folded bundle smelled faintly like peach currant. Felix wasn’t sure if it was from being laundered with whatever concoction Mercedes kept on hand, or simply by being in Annette’s care. He preferred to attribute it to the latter. 

“Thanks.”

Annette watched him with keen interest as he draped the cloak across his shoulders and fastened it back into place. “You...didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?” He knew. But for some reason he wanted to hear her interpretation.

“Well…_leaving _it like that! I mean, it wouldn’t be the first all-nighter I’ve pulled!”

She was right, of course. There really was no logical reason for leaving behind his cloak. It was a funny twist of fate—after spending ages searching the monastery grounds, Felix finally stumbled upon Annette when he _ wasn’t _ looking for her. Of course, he didn’t exactly envision their next encounter consisting of her sleeping atop a book in their old classroom. But it was only spring, and the evening air was still cold. And if his recent declaration to the professor was going to come to fruition…the irony was almost amusing. 

_ I can’t serve as an adjutant to someone who winds up sick from catching a chill, obviously. _

Just because their roles were reversing for the upcoming battle as fighter and adjutant didn’t mean they needed to take turns in the infirmary as well. 

“Are you ready for the next battle at the end of the month?”

“Huh?” Annette furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? Of course I am! If you’re insinuating I wasn’t studying _ enough_...there are only so many hours in a day, Felix!”

_ She doesn’t know. _

The reality slowly dawned on him. Clearly the professor hadn’t relayed a single word to her. Meaning Byleth’s push to encourage “harmonizing” was about more than just working together—Felix was going to have to tell her about their adjutant arrangement himself.

“Annette.”

“W-what?!”

“Spar with me.”

“I..._what_?” Annette glanced across the empty training grounds as if searching for someone else. “_Me_? What are you talking about?!”

“Spar with me,” he repeated again and drew himself into a readied stance. “Right now.”

She laughed. He still liked the sound, even if its timbre was high and nervous. “You’re joking, right? Okay, okay, you’ve got me—where’s Sylvain? Did he put you up to this?”

“No joke. Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can’t spar with you! My sword proficiency is nowhere near yours!”

“That’s fine. Don’t use a sword then.”

“No sword? Then...with _ magic_? But…” her eyes darted down to her hands.

“A good swordsman needs to be able to counter magic attacks. And a good mage—”

“—needs to know how to counter a sword,” Annette finished. “I know, but…” she looked back up at him with a determined frown. “Are you sure?”

He flicked his wrist. The edge of his blade caught the light. His answer was wordless. 

“Well...the professor _ did _ say I’ve been making progress lately,” Annette smiled. All her earlier hesitation was gone. She sprang back and raised her arms. The faintest scent of magic radiated from her fingertips as she bounced on her toes. “You ready?”

He nodded. 

_ Felix Hugo Fraldarius does not just simply become the adjutant of anyone. It needs to be earned. _

Annette twisted to the side and released her first spell. Wind sliced across the training grounds with a sharp whistle. 

“Too slow!”

Felix moved instinctively and dodged with ease. Dirt crunched underneath his boots as he swept into a low crouch. With a spurt of energy he shot ahead and took aim. His blade soared like a shining dart whizzing through the air. 

Annette lifted her arms and fired off another spell. The gust of wind threw off his balance as she evaded his strike. She hovered just barely above the ground, her toes peeking out from underneath her cream-colored dress as they skimmed the dirt. He felt the hairs along the back of his neck stand on edge as another wind spell barely grazed past him. The air crackled with magic. 

“Heh,” Felix drew back into a more defensive stance. “This new class suits you.”

“O-of course it does! I didn’t spend all that time studying just to fail the certification, you know!” 

Something about her flustered tone shook his concentration. Was she embarrassed? The pink hue rising to her cheeks was distracting. He didn’t dislike it.

Another spell shot off before Felix had a chance to adjust, and the force slammed against his hip, pushing him back across the dirt. His chest heaved with exertion.

_ That’s more like it. _

Annette appeared briefly rattled at the sight of landing a blow, then hastily recovered and discharged a follow-up spell. 

But this time he was ready. 

Felix sprinted forward again. His vision honed in on her red hair, a brightly-colored target shining ahead of him. 

Closer.

Closer.

_ Closer. _

A deep chime intoned as the Minor Crest of Dominic’s power activated, enshrouding Annette in a soft light. Her next spell burst with a dazzling flash. A wall of wind churned upwards, clashing against the broad edge of his sword and throwing his balance. The blade flew out of his hands and pitched through the air before sinking deep into the chest of the straw dummy. 

A cry of surprise reached his ears, but it was too late. Felix stumbled forward from the impact and knocked into her shoulder, pushing her back against the wall as his hand slammed to the side to steady himself from tumbling any further. Vestigial remnants of her last spell pricked against his skin as the wind dissipated. 

Suddenly she was _ too _ close. He was acutely aware of just how close the tip of his nose was to hers. Every eyelash, the golden flecks of color in her green eyes, even the tiniest smattering of freckles peppering the bridge of her nose—each detail was all at once too visible and _ far _too close. 

“Wh…” Annette struggled to catch her breath. Color crept up her cheeks again, and her voice took on an indignant tone. “You… you went _ easy _ on me, Felix! That’s not fair!”

The scent of peach currant was back again. His heart thundered in his ears, no doubt from losing his balance after getting hit with her parry. For a fleeting, bewildering moment, he wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t caught himself against the wall, and instead—

“F...Felix? Um…”

He snapped back from the wall and immediately turned away to retrieve his sword. Even with his back facing her, Felix could sense Annette's eyes following him. His hand closed around the hilt of his sword, and he finally breathed again.

“H-hey! _ Felix_! I’m serious! You can’t just ask to spar and then go easy on me!”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Huh?”

With his sword in hand, it felt easier making eye contact once more. “There’s nothing to be gained from fighting someone not worth sparring with. I didn’t go easy on you. Would you have preferred I gutted you with my sword?”

“Well… _ no_, obviously not! That’s not sparring, after all!” 

“You should accept that you’ve improved after all your hard work.”

Now it was Annette’s turn to avoid eye contact. She flustered, seemingly unprepared for the compliment. “I _ did _warn you I’ve been studying.”

“I just needed to be sure.”

“Be _ sure_?” She stamped her foot into the dirt and made a little disgruntled noise. “So you _ do _ think I’m not ready for this month’s battle! I should have known! And here I thought you were being _ thoughtful_, offering your cloak and looking out for me—”

“Let me be your adjutant.”

Annette opened her mouth to continue her tirade, then abruptly stopped and turned as red as one of the greenhouse tomatoes. “I…_what_?”

The tips of his ears felt hot. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult. He made the decision, they sparred, and he assessed. 

_ Simple, right? Simple. Extremely simple. _

So why did it feel so _ complex_?

“Okay, if _ sparring _ wasn’t a joke, this _ definitely _ is. Is Sylvain blackmailing you or something?”

“Tch. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Annette rolled forward on her toes and cast him a quizzical look. After another moment of silence she started to giggle. His ears felt hotter. “You’re really _ not _joking, are you.”

“I’m only asking once.”

“I’m sorry, let me just enjoy this moment!” Annette’s giggles were almost a melody in themselves. She spun around and flashed a cheeky grin. “It’s not everyday the mighty _ Felix _ deems someone _ worthy _enough for him to serve as their adjutant, after all! To what do I owe this great honor?”

“You work hard,” he tightened his grip around his hilt, “harder than most people. Even with a minor crest, you still push yourself instead of relying on its power. I just wanted to see how much you’ve improved. It wasn’t ever a question of competence.”

It was no secret that Annette’s work ethic put most members of their team to shame. Finding her asleep across a book was only one example. Every task she took on, she committed herself to completing it whole-heartedly. From cooking to casting spells, even crafting songs—her attempts weren’t always successful, but Felix couldn’t fault her for trying. In many ways, they weren’t all that different. Neither of them were satisfied with “good enough,” and both were constantly striving towards self-improvement. It was refreshing, _ admirable _ even. 

Maybe that was partly why he was growing to enjoy her company so much.

She giggled again, but this time it was light and bashful. “That’s… that’s really _ nice _ of you, Felix. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t read into it.” 

“In that case, I accept your offer!” Annette’s smile was broad, and her eyes were shining. It felt comforting seeing her good cheer return in full force. “Not that I _ needed _ any support...that is, if I’m as good as you say,” she added playfully. 

Felix sheathed his sword. This was becoming embarrassing for reasons he couldn’t identify. “I wouldn't exaggerate something like that. Don’t get sloppy and make me change my mind.”

Her laughter returned. If it had been anyone else, the sound would be immensely annoying, possibly even taunting. “I wouldn’t dream of it! Maybe this calls for a new verse in my song about you…!”

His stomach did another somersault. 

Felix knew exactly which song she was referencing. He wanted to hear about the lemons and honey again. “I’m pretty sure that song is complete as it is, but don’t let me stop you from singing if you want.” The sound of his voice lacked the flat indifference he was aiming for. Maybe she’d interpret it as an open invitation...in which case, who was he to stop her? 

Annette turned pink again, and her eyes darted down to his hand at his side. She offered nothing in response.

This was definitely embarrassing now.

“Right. I’ll be going now. Bye.”

Felix tossed his cloak across his shoulder and cast a dismissive wave as he began to walk away. The faster he moved on with his day, the sooner his heart rate would hopefully return to normal. 

“W-wait, where are you going?!”

“Stable duty with Sylvain.”

“Oh,” her voice dropped in disappointment. “Well, don’t _ you _get sloppy either! I want my adjutant in tippity-top shape, got it?”

“You should know me better. I don’t intend to disappoint.”


	12. Portamento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not the only one trying something new,” she waved her fluffy quill at him with a smile, “Actually...oh! Ashe, maybe you can help me figure this out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward pauses and long stretches of silence are my literary specialty.

A tidy pile of books surrounded her on all sides as she sat at the library table, stacked like a makeshift wall warding off invaders. Annette was on a mission. Her quill scratched across the parchment at a furious rate, but it still wasn’t fast enough to keep up with the rush of ideas and strategies as she plotted them on paper. A small bundle of cookies, courtesy of Mercedes, sat untouched by her elbow. There would be no accidental napping _ this _ time, even if it meant relying on a small, sugary boost if necessary.

But it wasn’t just external distractions Annnette was attempting to ward off. Felix’s request—well, it was more of a _ command_, she reflected, to become her adjutant left her utterly flummoxed. The more she tried to understand his reasoning, the more confused she felt. 

But even more confusing were her _ own _feelings. She unthinkingly tickled her chin with her quill and blushed, her mind drifting back to their sparring session days earlier. That was the closest she had ever come to another man’s face. And up close, Felix was actually quite handsome, especially when he wasn’t scowling. Her mind continued to drift, and another possibility began to slowly sneak up on her.

_ Oh no. _

_ Oh no. _

_ No no no no no. _

Impulsive songs, intrusive thoughts, confusing dreams—

_ No way. Absolutely not. I do not have...I don't feel that way! _

_ Right? Right. _

_ … Right? _

“Wow, Annette. I didn’t know you could write so fast! Is this all for this month’s campaign?”

“Oh!” she jumped in her seat and quickly motioned to prevent her inkwell from spilling. The direction that train of thought was heading down was not one she felt prepared to continue, so maybe an interruption wasn’t so bad after all. “Ashe! I didn’t see you there.”

A familiar face peered over the shortest stack of books. “Well, in your defense, I almost didn’t see _ you _ either,” Ashe smiled. “But I heard you writing, so I figured I’d come take a look.” The young man tilted his head, glancing at her neat handwriting as he idly ran a hand through his silver hair. “This looks awfully complicated...I’m impressed!”

“Maybe a _ little _ complicated, but I need to make sure I’m _ extra _ready for this month’s mission, so it’s all worth the effort.”

“Me too! Although I’m taking a slightly different approach this time.”

“Really?” Annette looked up from her notes, “But the professor said you were our MVP for the last battle!”

Ashe’s freckle-dusted cheeks turned pink. “Actually, I was considering serving as…someone’s adjutant for the next battle,” he looked at her from across the table and hesitated, "That is to say, if I’m going to be a great knight, I can’t get complacent and rely on the same tactics every time. I assume that’s why you’re studying too,” he gestured down at her notes and seemed more than happy to redirect the attention away from himself.

“I guess you could say that,” she giggled and breathed an inward sigh of relief as the subject steered away from adjutants, “But I’m sure you didn’t stop by just to watch me write!” 

“No, I actually just finished a book. A really fantastic one too, I’ll never tire of rereading it. Would you like to borrow it?”

“Sorry, Ashe. Maybe once this upcoming battle is over. And your taste in books is so great, I just _ know _I’ll be pulling a different kind of all-nighter if I get sucked into a good story!”

“No worries, the best thing about books is that they’ll always be there waiting for you when you’re ready.” Ashe pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, peering through the gap between the pile of books. 

Annette carefully pushed the stack aside, giving him a clear view from across the table. “I hope you don’t think I was being rude. I promise I wasn’t ignoring you, I can’t really see _ anything _ from here.”

“Not at all. I guess you could say you were… getting _ lost _ in a good book…?”

“Oh dear,” she stifled a giggle.

“S-sorry, I picked that one up from Alois.”

“That explains a _ lot_.”

“Actually,” Ashe sheepishly grinned, “this works out great. I was looking for you.”

“You were?”

“Well, not _ me_, specifically. I was on kitchen duty with Dedue, and he wanted to know if I’d seen you recently.”

Something clicked in her memory. In all the excitement, she had forgotten about their conversation and the embarrassing gaffe with the overflowing pot of stew. “Oh! It’s probably about a recipe we were discussing!”

“He did mention something about that. I think he had a few ideas he wanted to run by you. Although, I don’t mind helping too, if you need it?” Ashe’s eyes darted down to the cookies by her side, and he smiled again. “If I know you, Annette, I’m going to guess you’re planning to cook for someone else, not yourself. Am I right?”

She laughed, and she knew it sounded more flustered than she would’ve preferred. “It wasn’t exactly a secret, but yes!”

“Well, I’ll give you a bit of a tip, although you probably know already,” he leaned forward in his chair, “Mercedes isn’t very fond of spicy dishes, but I’ve noticed she’s trying to slowly increase her tolerance. I’m sure we can figure something out that’s just hot enough without going overboard.”

“Mercedes?”

“You...you _ are _ cooking for Mercedes, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no!” she blurted out, then immediately lowered her voice. They were, after all, in the _ library_. “Not at all! I’m actually trying to think of something Felix would enjoy.”

“Felix? Is he unwell again?”

“No,” she hesitated. Of all the distractions, the memory of their sparring session days earlier was the most bothersome of all, and not one she could simply block off with a tower of books. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t divulged as much information to Ashe in the first place. She glanced down and realized her quill had scratched a long, squiggly line across her most recent paragraph of notes. “I...just thought it would be nice to cook something for him.”

“Huh,” Ashe raised an eyebrow. “I guess so. I admit, I’m not too sure what his preferences are,” he trailed off in thought, then quickly bounced back with another smile. “Annette, are you familiar with this particular story?” he reached over and grabbed a nearby book, the same one he offered to her moments earlier. A proud knight in shining armor was splayed across the cover in a dazzling, full-color illustration.

Annette squinted and tried to read the title. It wasn’t one of her reference books. Nor was it one of Ashe’s favorites, _ Loog and the Maiden of Wind. _ But judging by the spine, it was still well-loved. “I don’t think I recognize that one,” she shook her head. 

“It’s a great story,” he gushed, “and I really appreciate how the main character’s friends all come together despite their differences. They’re gallant and brave, and their friendship is what helps them make the world a better place.”

“That does sound great,” she nodded and wondered where this was going. 

“Well, the knight in this story is just like Felix!”

“W-wait,” she suppressed a second giggle. “Are you _ sure_? That doesn’t sound anything like Felix! He’s a lone wolf, not exactly someone I’d consider part of a merry band of knights.”

There was an excited gleam in Ashe’s green eyes. Clearly this story was dear to his heart, and he was relishing every minute of his retelling. “That’s _ why _it’s such a great story. Even though the knight seems cold and sarcastic, he’s actually a really great person deep down, and he cares a lot for his friends.”

Annette’s mind wandered back to the pine-scented cloak draped across her sleeping shoulders and she blushed again. It _ was _ an awfully nice gesture, and certainly not one she ever would’ve expected from someone as irritable as Felix. She was starting to see where Ashe was going with this comparison.

“So...you’re saying…”

“I’m saying that no matter what you decide to cook for Felix, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Ashe smiled and gave the book’s cover an affectionate pat, “even if he might not seem like he does.”

“I suppose that does sound just like him,” she couldn’t help but nod along. “You’re really insightful, Ashe!”

“I try,” Ashe looked embarrassed again. “Anyways, don’t stress too much about it.”

“You’re right! I need to focus on the upcoming battle! There will be plenty of time for books _ and _ cooking once it’s over!”

Ashe leaned back in his chair and placed the book atop the nearest stack with care. “So what _ are _ you studying? This looks a little different from some of the other spell sets I’ve seen you write out.”

“You’re not the only one trying something new,” she waved her fluffy quill at him with a smile, “Actually...oh! Ashe, maybe _ you _ can help me figure this out!”

“Figure… _ this _out?” he gestured down to her spell formulas, “I...I can try, but my magical aptitude isn’t the best…”

“No no, your _ insight. _”

“A-Annette, I’m not used to all this flattery,” he laughed. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even call it insight. I just love this story, and I see the similarities. I really do recommend you read it though, if you can.”

“Well then, how’s _ this _scenario?” Annette’s quill bobbed in her fingers, as if trying to summon the answer from him, “Did the grumpy knight in your story serve as an adjutant at some point?”

Ashe perked up in his chair. “Oh! That was a _ great _ arc,” he nodded, “it was probably one of my favorite parts.” 

“So he did! But why? If he was so grumpy, wouldn’t he prefer working alone? Or consider himself above being an adjutant?”

“Ah…” he trailed off as his face turned a curious shade of red. 

“Ashe…?”

“Annette...did…_Felix _ ask to work as your adjutant?”

“Yes! Oh, I _ knew _ you were insightful, Ashe! So what does that _ mean_?”

“Well… it… it _ is _just a story, after all.”

She frowned. Where was that earlier passion and enthusiasm? It felt strange seeing Ashe downplay the very same tale he was just praising minutes earlier. “Did… did it end badly? Did they lose the battle?”

“N-no, it’s not that.” 

“Oh no! Would this spoil the story for me when I read the book?”

“Not at all! It’s just… well,” he swallowed and became very interested in examining her stack of spellbooks, “there was a member of their party the knight was… very _ fond _ of, but he didn’t know how to express it. He thought serving as her adjutant would maybe help him find another way to show how he felt.”

“Ahhh,” she nodded. “I get it!”

…

_ Oh no. _

_ I get it. _

The ticking of the library’s grandfather clock carried on as a brief stretch of silence spread between the two of them. 

“W-well!” Annette immediately stood up and began gathering her parchment, “like you said, it’s just a book! Not real life. They’re two totally different things!”

Ashe stood up at the same time as her, as if on cue. “R...right! I’ll just… I’ll put this back on the shelf, so you can borrow it any time, okay?”

“Of course! That’s...yes! Yes, of course. I definitely will!”

“Absolutely!” 

“Yes, absolutely!”

“So…” Ashe shuffled in place, his eyes darting across the empty library, “Um… _ are _ you…?”

“Going to read your book? I promise, I definitely will.”

“N-no, I meant…”

Something akin to a ball of lead dropped to the bottom of her stomach. His question had nothing to do with the book, no matter how much Annette wished it did. “Well, I mean… he _ asked_—actually...it was more like a _ demand_—” 

“Y-yeah,” Ashe laughed nervously, “It’s hard to say no to something like that, right?”

In all honesty, it wasn’t very difficult at all to accept. In fact, amongst the jumble of emotions she was still trying to sort out, there was a part of her that was definitely tickled pink at Felix’s insistence. She tried to quell her own nervous laugh. “I’ll say. But… what about you? Weren’t you planning on taking a similar approach? Your new strategy?”

Ashe’s freckles burned an even brighter pink, and he cleared his throat. “That’s… that doesn’t matter. I’m sure we’ll both do great in the next battle, right?”

“Right!”

“Right.”

The clock continued to tick. 

“I...should let you get back to work, sorry for interrupting you, Annette. I’ll let Dedue know you’ll stop by later, okay?”

“S-sure!”

Ashe offered one last bashful nod before quickly making his exit, leaving Annette alone with her stack of books, the chiming grandfather clock, and the sound of her own pounding heart.


	13. Scherzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain leaned over and rested his elbow atop Felix’s shoulder with carefree abandon. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you take my advice?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm committed to using as much canonical shopping dialogue as possible.
> 
> Heading to Japan for my wedding anniversary, updates will be slow for a bit.

“Is this the one?”

The hustle and bustle of Garreg Mach’s marketplace hummed around them as Sylvain stifled a hearty yawn, the third one within the space of ten minutes judging by Felix’s counting. Professor Byleth hovered over an expansive table of wares, picking each item up and examining it with mild interest. Every so often he’d stop and glance over his shoulder as if assessing his two former students before returning his attention to the inquiring shopkeeper.

“I thought you said this was _ important, _ Sylvain,” Felix grumbled. “I had plans after stable duty. Plans that didn’t consist of shopping.”

Sylvain yawned for the fourth time and stretched his arms behind his head. “Hey, this isn’t exactly my idea of fun either. But the professor insisted we needed gear for this month’s campaign, and who am I to say no? Now that we have reinforcements, this is the time to reassess our stock.”

“Is this the one?”

The jangling of coins rattled behind them, and the shopkeeper’s chipper voice rose above the marketplace’s clamor. “Wow, thanks a bunch!”

The professor tied up his coin purse and turned to another nearby stall.

Felix tsked. “How long does this typically take?”

“Heh… now do you see why I asked for some company? Besides, this isn’t _ all _ bad…” Sylvain gestured out to the crowd, “I personally enjoy a little bit of people-watching myself.”

“Uh huh.” It went without saying that ‘people-watching’ most likely meant _women-watching,_ knowing Sylvain.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Felix. It was getting boring without you around.”

“I’m sure you’d have found something to entertain you.”

“Maybe,” the redhead shrugged, “although I guess you were overdue. I feel like it’s been ages since you were sick like that. In fact, the last time I can remember…”

“If I recall, _ you _ got me sick.”

“Hey now, _ all _ of us got sick! But if you want someone to blame, you can blame Ingrid. Contrary to whatever she read in her favorite book, training in the rain is _ not _ the best way for a knight to grow stronger. We just all happened to find out the hard way.”

“Hmph.”

Felix sat himself atop a nearby barrel. The professor’s shopping excursion seemed to draw on endlessly, and now conversation was starting to stray towards the past and the simpler days of their youth. Although Sylvain’s company wasn’t wholly disagreeable, Felix would prefer not to dwell on those happier times, as it undoubtedly would lead them to discussing less happier times...and those topics were better left untouched. 

“Speaking of… Does Ingrid seem different to you lately?”

“Huh?” Felix blinked. 

“I mean, well, _ you’ve _ known her as long as I have, and you’ve got a good eye for detail. Did you notice anything?”

“Not really. She’s less reckless in battle, but I would assume that comes with training and maturity.”

“I don’t mean in that way, it’s more like…”

“Her proficiency with the lance has improved.”

“_No_. Her _ appearance_.”

“Oh. That.” Felix rolled his eyes, his voice flat. “She cut her hair. It’s probably more efficient when flying.”

“I take it back, you really don’t have an eye for detail,” Sylvain chuckled to himself before running a pensive thumb along his chin. “I dunno, she just…she’s _ prettier _ than I remember.”

“You realize she’s not around to hear your bad pickup lines, right?”

“No! I just—_ugh_,” Sylvain groaned to himself. “I can’t explain it. But if I say something, it’s going to come across like I’m just being an insufferable flirt.”

“It’s Ingrid. She already _ knows _ you’re an insufferable flirt.”

“Heh...I can always count on you to be direct,” Sylvain answered after a moment. Their conversation settled into a comfortable, quiet lull as the sounds of the market took over. 

_ When was the last time we just sat together like this? _

Too long. Not since before the war. Felix didn’t like to admit it, but if he had to pick someone to waste time with indulging in the professor’s shopping spree, Sylvain wasn’t the worst choice. Certainly better than the wild boar and his rabid dog—

“Hey hey,” Sylvain’s elbow jabbed against his side. “What do you think _ they’re _ up to?”

A flash of red shimmered in his peripheral vision. Across the marketplace Felix caught sight of Mercedes leaning over a stall with Annette in tow, both staring down at whatever goods were on sale with keen interest. The redhead bounced on her toes with enthusiasm as she struggled to see over her taller friend’s shoulder. Mercedes lifted some unknown item from the merchant’s table to examine, and Annette wiggled closer to get a good look. The two finally settled on a decision and passed payment to the shopkeeper. Whatever it was, Annette’s excitement was visible judging by her mannerisms. There was something endearing about the way she clenched her fists and rose up on her toes again to look at their purchase. 

He wondered if perhaps she was already crafting a new song about the item they just purchased. Maybe she’d sing for him. Perhaps there would even be an accompanying dance. He liked the thought.

Felix felt his friend’s eyes turn away from the crowd and look back at him, as if Sylvain could sense the distracting sensation rising in his chest. His throat was dry. Felix answered after a moment’s pause with all the cool indifference he could muster. “Shopping, obviously.” 

“Let’s go say hello. Maybe the professor wants to buy more gear for them too.”

“_No_—” Felix realized his objection was far hastier than he intended. “If the professor wants to buy them something, he can take them out on his own time.”

Sylvain cast Felix as judgmental look. As if on cue, Byleth’s coin purse jingled again, and the shopkeeper cheerfully accepted his payment. “Wow, thanks a bunch!”

“Yeah, I’m not sitting through fifty more transactions. After all, you _ did _ just say I’d find something to entertain myself,” Sylvain grinned. Before Felix could object again, his friend was already waving down the girls. 

“Hey, fancy meeting you two here!”

Mercedes waved back and glided across the marketplace with Annette bounding along behind her. Even in the bustling crowd she somehow managed to move with a manner of grace and poise that seemed almost unnaturally smooth. “Sylvain! Felix! How nice to see you both. And of course, you too, professor,” Mercedes offered a courteous nod. Byleth wordlessly waved back before resuming his shopping. 

“Find any good deals? What’ve you got there?”

“Oh this?” Mercedes held up a small parcel wrapped in paper, “A new shipment of tea arrived. We were planning on trying some with Ingrid. Annette suggested we host a small get-together before the next battle. Would you like to come?”

“M-Mercie, I just meant between us girls!” Annette protested as she tugged at her friend’s sleeve. She darted a nervous glance over at Felix. The two locked eyes. His throat felt dry again. She immediately looked away.

“But Annie, wouldn’t it be so much more fun with everyone?”

“Nah, that’s okay,” Sylvain laughed. “I’m always down for tea with with such beautiful company. But I think Felix here has other plans.”

“Don’t answer on my behalf,” Felix snapped. “But yes, I’m _ busy._”

This time Mercedes was watching him. It felt almost as unwelcome as Sylvain’s smug stare. “That’s too bad. Maybe we can have one all together after the next battle then to celebrate?”

“Fantastic idea, Mercedes!” Sylvain nodded. “Only if your _ stupendous _ baking makes an appearance, of course.

“I don’t see why not, provided we can spare the ingredients. I’m sure I can come up with something,” Mercedes giggled. 

Annette tugged on her friend’s sleeve again. Her expression was flustered, and she was still making every effort to avoid eye contact with Felix. “We should get going, Mercie. Ingrid is probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”

“Oh dear, you’re right. Where did the time go?” she offered an apologetic nod. “Please take care, you two,” Mercedes smiled one last time, then turned and disappeared into the crowd. Annette hesitated and cast one last look over her shoulder before scampering off behind her friend. Felix studied her retreating form. The hair at the nape of her neck curled slightly. He never noticed it before. 

“_So_...”

“What.”

Sylvain leaned over and rested his elbow atop Felix’s shoulder with carefree abandon. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Did you take my advice?”

“You feel the need to impart all sorts of unwarranted advice, and none of it is very useful. You’ll have to be more definitive than that.”

“About the _ earworm_, of course.”

Felix swallowed.

_ That conversation was months ago. Why bring it up now? _

“C’mon, we’ve got a battle coming up! I know _ last _ month you had a perfectly legitimate excuse, what with getting sick and all. But this time around you can’t afford to get distracted,” Sylvain teased and nudged at his ribs again, then paused. “Wait a second, don’t tell me you _ still _ think this is all attributed to _ magic_.”

The earlier twisting sensation in his chest quickly morphed into an embarrassed churn. “No. It’s not. I already confirmed that.”

“You did?”

_ Ugh. I walked right into that one. _

Letting Sylvain know he had to ask _ Mercedes _ about the validity of his song magic theory was an even more embarrassing thought. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

“Worrying about my friends is plenty important!” Sylvain pulled back and put on a display of mock offense. “How could you ever insinuate it was anything less!”

“Spare me the melodrama.”

“Fine, fine,” his friend offered a lazy, apologetic wave, then slowly trailed off and looked back across the crowded marketplace as if searching for something. “You know, speaking of Annette...Ingrid’s not the only one who’s looking different, eh?”

An emotion akin to irritation wriggled its way to the surface of his consciousness. There was something displeasing about the thought of Sylvain making observations on Annette’s appearance. Hearing Sylvain pass judgment on the beauty of other women was always bothersome. Yet hearing his opinions on Annette in particular felt…_wrong. _

“Five years changes everyone,” Felix grunted. 

“Yeah, but talk about _ change_. I mean, her personality hasn’t changed, but the _ rest _ of her...” Sylvain turned away from the crowd, his smile practically twinkling in the sunlight, “You know, maybe I should ask her out to dinner.”

That wriggling irritation prickled at him with a fresh surge of indignation, its barbs sharp and impossible to ignore. Felix rose from his seat. It didn’t matter if the professor was still shopping, his patience was at its limit. “I don’t have time for this.”

“What! Come on, you can’t tell me _ her _ hair is more... _ aerodynamic _ too!”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“You’re wasting your youth, Felix,” his childhood friend sighed. “Maybe I’ll ask the professor to pair us up for this month’s battle. It’s been a while since I had an adjutant. And as much as I appreciate Cyril’s can-do attitude, I wouldn’t mind someone easier on the eyes instead—”

“I’m already serving as Annette’s adjutant this month.”

If there was any possible way to rewind time, Felix desperately wished he could. Sylvain’s scrutinizing stare was back, along with an unsettling eyebrow quirk. But even worse, his friend didn’t even seem _ surprised _ by this sudden admission. Almost as if he had known all along. And that felt worse than accidentally announcing his upcoming battle assignment for reasons Felix couldn’t identify. 

Sylvain leaned back against the stone wall. Slowly. Casually. Like he was savoring this new tidbit of information. “Wait a minute. I must’ve misheard. You mean _ Annette _ is _ your _ adjutant, right? Just like last month?”

“No.” 

_ There’s no point in lying. He’ll find out soon enough anyways. _

“No... what?”

“I’m her adjutant.”

“_You_? An _ adjutant_? Has that _ ever _ happened?”

“...No.”

“Geez, no wonder you’re in such a sour mood,” Sylvain ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “I don’t think the professor has ever given you that kind of assignment before.”

“He didn’t. I requested it.”

If Sylvain wasn’t relishing this news before, he absolutely was now. A new smile unfolded across his friend’s lips. “Heh. I thought so.”

“What?”

The redhead shrugged. “I always make an effort to check with the professor before battle just to see who he’s planning on stationing me next to. I have..._ preferences_, so I like knowing ahead of time. So when he made mention of your assignment, and I _ didn’t _ hear you raising a ruckus...well, let’s just say I put two and two together.”

Felix felt his eyebrow twitch. He’d been played like a fiddle, and he didn’t appreciate it one bit. “I can’t believe you. Pathetic. I knew I shouldn’t have wasted my time with this.”

“Hey, I’m not knocking your choice! After all, I admire your dedication. All this effort just to dispel an earworm...I’m impressed. You two pair up, she sings, you get that song out of your head, and then you can move on with your life, right?”

_ Dispel... _

_ That’s why I’m doing this, right? _

The reasoning behind Felix’s decision to serve as Annette’s adjutant had gotten muddied somewhere along the way. Was is out of pride? Watching Byleth’s silent reaction during their tea party following his insistence at harmonizing was just the catalyst. It was _ natural _ to want to prove the professor wrong. It was _ natural _ to want to surpass his former teacher’s expectations.

_ It’s only natural. _

But there was something unnatural about how breathing suddenly felt optional in Annette’s presence. 

And there was something unnatural about how badly he wanted to hear her sing again.

And there was something unnatural about how uncomfortable he felt hearing Sylvain compliment her appearance.

And there was something unnatural about how much his mind continued to stray back to their sparring session the other day, the memory of how close her face was to his, and how bewilderingly _ okay _he was with that detail. 

_ This… _

_ This _ isn’t _ natural, is it. _

The professor’s conversation with the shopkeeper punctured the lingering silence between the two men.

“Is this the one?”

Byleth’s coin purse tinkled one last time.

“Thanks a bunch! Come back soon!”


	14. Quartet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh no,” Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose. 
> 
> “Oh no?” Flayn echoed curiously. 
> 
> “Oh no,” Mercedes set her teacup down and glanced at Ingrid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vacation was lovely, now back to work. 
> 
> The phrase "Oh no" appears 16 times thus far in this story. Nearly half of those occurrences are in this chapter.

A steady spring rain gently drummed against the windowpane as the last cup of tea was placed on its matching saucer with care. Annette stood back and admired how tidy Mercedes’s table looked. A stack of sweets rested atop a tiered platter at the center, their glazed icing shimmered enticingly. Even in wartime, somehow her friend managed to conjure up just the right ingredients despite the ongoing rationing. 

Ingrid appeared just as impressed and cast a curious look across the decadent spread. “Mercedes, if I didn’t know any better, I’d be questioning where you were getting your ingredients…”

“I’m just resourceful, that’s all!” Mercedes giggled, “You can find plenty of traditional recipes listed in some of the older books in the library, they're written specifically for difficult times like these.”

“I never doubted your resourcefulness,” a small smile pulled at the corner of Ingrid’s lips, “although… there are _ four _ teacups. Don’t tell me Sylvain is actually coming after all?”

Annette reached for a cookie and fumbled. Sylvain’s attendance had a whole slew of other implications, including a possible discussion regarding a certain swordsman. “T-this was supposed to be just us girls!”

“It is, we’re just waiting for—”

A polite rapping at the door interrupted them. Mercedes glided over and welcomed in their last guest. “Oh, Flayn! I’m so glad you were able to make it!”

_ Whew. It’s just Flayn... _

“I must apologize for my tardiness,” Flayn swept into a courteous bow, her green curls bobbing along, “My brother was quite insistent on knowing all the details surrounding the nature of my engagement. It was rather vexing, to say the least.”

“Surely a simple tea party isn’t cause for concern,” Ingrid answered. “He knows all of us well enough by now.”

“That’s right!” Annette piped up, “it’s important to spend time with friends, even during war. It keeps our spirits up, after all!”

There was a mischievous twinkle in Flayn’s eyes. She nestled herself into the remaining chair, Mercedes following suit. “Of course he does. However, this is more than just a simple tea party, is it not?”

“It...it is?”

“But of course! I have heard of this ritual in many a book. In fact, it is something I have been dearly hoping to partake in myself!”

Annette exchanged a glance with Ingrid from across the table. The blonde shrugged and took another cookie from the tray. Whatever Flayn was referencing was news to them both. Mercedes, however, appeared completely unphased and continued to pour tea with a gracious smile. 

“Well? What’s this _ ritual_?” Ingrid dunked her cookie in the teacup. 

“It is the age-old art of _ girltalk_,” Flayn enunciated with relish. “Where one partakes in the company of her fellow womankind, and they _ talk _ about all kinds of things amongst themselves. It is as old as the very concept of camaraderie itself!”

“Oh! Mercie and I do that all the time! I’m sure it will be even more fun with four of us!” Annette let loose a little sigh. Flayn was always a bit of a wild card, and all this talk of “rituals” left her feeling nervous. But if her request was a simple chat amongst friends...

Mercedes covered the teapot with a knit cozy before settling back into her chair. “What shall we talk about then?”

“Anything is permissible, although perhaps we would do well to stay away from...heavier topics,” Flayn answered delicately. The implication behind her words was clear—the ongoing war was off the table. Not that Annette minded. If anything, maybe this was just the kind of distraction she needed.

The four of them sat in silence, each contemplating a topic for discussion. Annette stared down at her reflection rippling at the surface of her tea and bit her lip. There was a topic she sorely wished to talk about, but embarrassment, confusion, and a whole host of other foreign emotions held her back.

_ Maybe I misunderstood Ashe’s interpretation. It’s just a story, after all. _

Annette’s initial suggestion to pull together a tea party was starting to feel like a bad idea. Things would’ve been much simpler if she confided directly in Mercedes instead of getting other people involved. But now it was too late, and her question was stubbornly lodged at the forefront of her mind, unasked and unanswered. 

_ What did he mean in asking to be my adjutant? _

“The professor upgraded my lance yesterday,” Ingrid nodded after a moment. “It’s definitely an improvement.”

“Ah, the _ professor. _ He is quite interesting, is he not?”

“He has a good eye for workmanship. My lance feels lighter and handles better than ever before.”

Flayn pouted. Ingrid’s choice in topic was obviously not appealing to her. “Yes, the professor is a man of exceptional taste! He is like the ocean, deep and full of mystery...”

Mercedes giggled. “_Flayn_…” she took a sip from her teacup, “if you wanted to talk about boys, why didn’t you just say so?”

“W-whatever do you mean? I made no such claim!”

“It’s okay, there’s no need to worry. We won’t tell Seteth.”

Despite the mild spring chill, Annette suddenly felt the back of her neck perspire and desperately wished Mercedes had decided to tell scary ghost stories instead. 

“_Boys_,” Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Really? Of all the topics we could discuss, _ that’s _ what you want to talk about?”

“Yes!”Flayn nearly bounced out of her seat. “I-I mean, if that is agreeable with you. This is often regarded as a common topic amongst women during such a gathering, and...as you can see, these are not the sorts of things one talks about with their brother.”

“Oh _ Flayn,_” Mercedes sighed. Annette knew that tone of voice very well. Her friend’s Big Sister Senses were awake and in full force. “You definitely should have said something! You can talk about _ anything _ you like around us!”

“Wonderful! Please, let us commence with the discussion!”

Ingrid finished her next cookie. “Not sure what there is to talk about. Anyone in particular?”

“There is no particular order. I wish to hear about each person of interest. Just like one might do in the stories!”

Annette pressed her teacup to her lips but couldn’t bring herself to drink. 

_ Maybe I’m being silly. I mean, these are my friends! This whole thing could be a misunderstanding, right? _

“Interest, huh?” Ingrid grabbed another cookie with a faint laugh. “Okay, you want to hear _ interesting_? Just yesterday, Sylvain actually noticed my makeup!”

“Oh!” Mercedes clapped her hands together. “So you’ve been using the palette Annie and I gave you?”

“W-well, _ yes_, I wasn’t about to let it go to waste.”

“I see, how wonderful!”

“I do enjoy it,” Ingrid admitted, “I shouldn’t have been so judgmental about it in the first place. Although I’m pretty sure out of every man around, Sylvain is probably the most likely to notice,” she chuckled and polished off her second cup of tea. “Of course, we'd have something to worry about if someone like _ Felix _ noticed—”

“F-Felix asked to be my adjutant!” Annette suddenly blurted out. 

Mercedes drew a long, slow sip of tea. 

“Wait,” Ingrid coughed and set her teacup down. “What? _ Felix_? You’re joking.”

“No! He… we… we were sparring, and then...and…” she flustered before everything came tumbling out in a jumbled rush, “and then he asked to be my _ adjutant_, so I said _ yes_, but then I went to the library, and I was researching different spell configurations that would work well with an adjutant who’s suited to using a sword, but the entire time I’ve been feeling really confused about the whole thing, and then _ Ashe _ stopped by, and he was telling me about this story of his, and then he told me Felix was just like a knight in the story, and...and…”

Flayn leaned forward in her chair, her teacup all but forgotten. Her green eyes were shining. This definitely felt like a bad idea now if it didn’t before. 

“Oh no,” Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Oh no?” Flayn echoed curiously. 

“Oh no,” Mercedes set her teacup down and glanced at Ingrid. 

“D-don’t you all ‘_oh no’ _ me!” Annette felt her voice crack and swallowed back her rising embarrassment. 

Mercedes folded her hands and turned to address Ingrid directly. “I feel partly responsible for this, I should have been a little more clear with you, Ingrid…”

“No,” Ingrid protested, “I’m the one who made the suggestion. It sounded harmless enough. How was _ I _ supposed to know you were referring to—”

“Um…” 

“Annette,” Ingrid sighed, “I told Ashe he should ask you to pair with _ him _ as your adjutant this month.”

“Y-you… _ what_?”

_ “Actually, I was considering serving as…someone’s adjutant for the next battle.” _

Ashe’s offhand comment quickly sprang to her memory. At the time, Annette was so focused on her own thoughts, she barely paid it much mind. Nor did she give it a second thought when he brushed her off later when she asked for more information.

_ But then… the knight in the story... _

“The topic came up when I was having tea with Mercedes last week. We were talking about how often you seem to get stuck being an adjutant, and that you’ve been working too hard to get sidelined like that. So when Ashe approached me asking if you were available for this month’s battle, it just seemed like a logical suggestion.”

“All this talk of adjutants,” Flayn leaned back into her chair with a small huff. “I do not see what all the fuss is about. Is this not the natural course of battle planning? I myself have served as an adjutant many a time with no commotion.”

“Typically it is, but—”

“Flayn,” Mercedes laced her fingers together, her voice soft and sweet, “Have you ever read the book, _ Tales of the Knights of Alleyne Abbey _ by any chance?”

“Oh yes! It is a most delightful story.”

Mercedes resumed sipping her tea in silence, offering no further explanation. The lights slowly went on in Flayn’s eyes. Annette was beginning to feel like the only person in the entire monastery who _ hadn’t _ yet read this book, but she already knew the meaning behind Mercedes’s words.

“Oh!” Flayn chirped excitedly. Another moment passed, then her shoulders slumped. “_Oh. _ Oh no.”

_ Oh no, indeed… _

“I-It’s fine!” Annette jumped from her chair, knocking it to the ground with a clatter. Her face was feeling uncomfortably hot. “I’m going to the storeroom to fetch more tea!”

“Annette—”

“Don’t worry, please keep eating!” 

Annette could feel the watchful eyes of her friends following her as she sprinted from the room. They didn’t need more tea. There was plenty of tea in the pot. But she wanted to get as far away as possible from the discussion, and the only way to do so was to leave. Her feet carried her through the echoing halls of the monastery without thinking, her heart racing and her face burning with embarrassment.

_ What am I doing? _

_ What’s wrong with me?! _

The dining hall was mercifully empty. Annette quietly slipped into the storeroom, leaving the door barely ajar to let light in. Despite being in a smaller space, she finally felt relaxed. No prying eyes, no speculative comments, and no talks of stories and adjutants. 

She exhaled with relief. 

The entire back wall of the pantry was a single shelf, stretching from floor to ceiling and fully stacked with rows of boxes and bags of dried goods. Annette quietly ran her fingertips along the edge of the boxes of dried tea leaves. As her nerves settled, she relaxed into an old, familiar song, her mood gradually brightening.

_ “So many boxes, stacked up high, _

_ “So many boxes, I wonder why, _

_ “Stack them up, knock them down, _

_ “Peer inside and look around, _

_ “Boxes as far as the eye can see, _

_ “Somewhere there’s the perfect box for me!” _

“You could just… open the boxes and check the contents, you know.”

_ Oh no. _

Annette whirled around, accidentally knocking several boxes of tea off the edge of the shelf. “W-what are you doing here?!”

“I could ask the same of you,” Felix shrugged. He stood in the pantry doorway, one hand on his hip and the other rumpling through his hair in thought as he watched her closely. A sliver of light from the dining hall trickled in behind him. “I’m on kitchen duty today, not you.”

“W...well...I...I was looking for tea!”

Felix’s eyes wandered down to the scattered boxes at her feet. “It looks like you found it.”

“Y-yes. Yes, I did.”

Annette swallowed. She was beginning to feel as though her singing had become a honing signal, summoning Felix from across the monastery in the blink of an eye. Then again, such a skill might prove useful, especially in battle. The mental image of Felix whizzing across the battlefield towards her side upon hearing a simple song was humorous. She couldn’t help but grin at the thought. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh! No, nothing. I just—ah, I was thinking of the upcoming battle!” Annette crouched and began gathering up the boxes of tea. 

“I don’t see how that’s something worth smiling over,” he responded and knelt opposite her. “Let me help you with that.”

He was close again. Her heart did a little leap. The way his hair fell across his forehead made Annette want to reach over and brush it away. “I know it’s not,” she answered hesitantly, “but for this next battle… well, it’s better to smile than be scared, right?”

Felix stopped and looked back down at the box in his hand, then met her eyes. The little leap in her chest became a tumbling somersault. “It’d be foolish not to be scared. This entire campaign is a reckless fool’s errand,” he said. Despite his words, the tone of his voice was not unkind. 

Annette opened her mouth to respond, then froze in place. The sound of footprints drew near. There was nothing _ wrong _ with being in the pantry with Felix, but the idea of getting caught together for some reason felt almost scandalous. 

“—making the final preparations?”

“Indeed. The odds are not in our favor, but all we can do is place our trust in the professor.”

Felix frowned, his sight still locked on her. She bit her lower lip. There was no mistaking it. Her father’s voice was immediately recognizable, and Rodrigue Fraldarius’s was just as familiar. The idea of getting caught in the pantry by their _ fathers _ was infinitely more embarrassing. She sensed Felix tense at the sound of his father’s voice. He clearly had no desire to be discovered either. They both seemed to breathe in sync as they listened in silence. 

“We’ve done well to get this far,” Rodrigue added after a pause, “never did I imagine it would come to this. And with his Highness in his current state...”

Her father sighed. “None of us anticipated this five years ago,” he answered, his voice low and weary, “I was trusted to protect the future of the nation. And I will do all I can to keep that promise.”

“Yes,” Rodrigue began, but the remainder of his response was too far away to hear. Their footsteps tapered off, leaving the pantry blanketed in silence once more. 

“A fool’s errand,” Felix repeated quietly, tracing his thumb across the box’s handwritten label before rising to his feet and placing it back on the shelf. “Spearheaded by a foolish, crazed boar. And we’re all fools to go along with it, blindly following his lead. There’s a very good chance we’ll die.”

Something stirred inside her. The reason behind his request to become her adjutant didn’t matter anymore. This was more important. 

“No!” 

“No? Be sensible. You know I’m right.”

“N-not that!” Annette sprang up. A strange rush of courage coursed through her. “None of us are going to die. I’m not going to die. _ You’re _ not going to die. I won’t let you,” she impulsively grabbed his hands, “After all, you’re my adjutant. I’ll protect everyone...I’ll keep you safe!”

“Tch,” he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. She felt his fingers curl tighter around her hands. “Don’t be stupid. That’s what an adjutant is supposed to do.”

“Since when were you so focused on following battle formation rules?” she teased.

“Since when were _ you _ so keen to break them?”

“I…”

_ Good question. _

She glanced down at his hands in hers and snapped away in haste. Annette silently cursed herself for letting her pride get the best of her. Because it was obviously pride. Pride in proving him wrong, pride in proving she was fit to have him as an adjutant—_ pride. _Definitely pride. Absolutely pride.

Her cheeks felt warm. It wasn’t pride. 

_ Oh no. _

“Here,” Felix cleared his throat and handed her a box of tea. The design of the box was unfamiliar, perhaps one of the new blends Mercedes selected. “Your tea.”

“Oh! Yes, the tea. Thank you!”

Her hands closed around the box. She wanted to hold _ his _hands again instead. They stared at each other in silence. 

“It’s the perfect box,” he said finally.

“W-what?”

Felix scowled. “Your song.”

“My...you mean The Box Song?”

“Remember? ‘_Somewhere there’s the perfect box for me_,’” he recited dryly as if reading from one of Professor Byleth’s lecture papers. “Now you have one. So it’s concluded.”

“Oh!” she clutched the box closer. “I...I guess so!”

Felix frowned again. His ears were still red. “I have to go. Kitchen duty. Bye.”

Light spilled into the pantry as he swung open the door and walked away. Annette drew a deep breath as she watched his back. It felt like she hadn’t breathed in hours. 

“The perfect box for me,” she murmured to herself as her eyes drifted across the handwritten label. 

_ Lemon Verbena. _


	15. Con Fuoco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they locked eyes, Dimitri let loose another peal of laughter from ahead of them. Something in Annette's expression changed. "That's why you can't concentrate," she drew closer and frowned. Her next spell glimmered at her fingertips, ready and waiting at a moment's notice. "It's Dimitri, isn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest, most difficult chapter to write thus far. I've been trying to skirt around spoilers for the Blue Lions route, but they are unavoidable in this chapter. My apologies.

A gentle breeze rippled across Gronder Field with all the warmth and serenity one would expect from a spring day. The birds were singing, and the fresh, sweet scent of new growth just starting to poke through the soil after a long winter's sleep carried itself along the currents. Under any other circumstances, it would be the ideal day, but today was not the ideal day.

Felix mused to himself as he stood at the ready, awaiting their next battle commands. The entire affair felt like a shameless farce, a poorly-kept secret that no one was willing to call out for what it was—a beautiful spring morning, yet the tension of the battlefield was just barely contained behind the fragile facade. And at the frontlines of their formation stood Dimitri...but the days of their prince hiding his own darkness underneath the surface were no more. The wild boar's uncontained bloodlust was on full, disgraceful display for the entire world to see. And soon, Gronder Field would also take on its true form as well, and the illusion would be shattered.

"I can't believe we're really here. Five years feels like an entire lifetime ago, huh?" Annette's tone was somber. She stood at his side, her hands laced behind her back as she surveyed the field. The enemy lines weren't in view yet. Despite her casual pose, the tension in her shoulders was clear to see. Her mouth was drawn in a taut line as she watched her father and Rodrigue stand by the professor, no doubt holding a final conversation regarding their strategy.

"There's no point in getting sentimental," he answered, his eyes wandering over to Dimitri spearheading their formation. "It won't do any good to get distracted."

"I wouldn't call it sentimental, it's more like...well, _sad_, I guess. The last time we were here was for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Now we're here again, fighting our friends on the same field, but this time..."

"Sad or happy, it doesn't matter. Survival is what matters."

"Survival…" Annette's gaze followed his own, lingering on Dimitri's form as he held tightly to his scythe. His weapon visibly shook. A tremor seemed to run up the entire length of the prince's body, as if he were struggling to hold himself back from rushing across the battlefield on his own. "Surviving and living aren't the same thing though, are they? Because… Dimitri survived, but… I don't think he's _living_," her voice was low, "at least… not like he should, that is."

"You're right. Animals survive. Humans live."

The air was still. The birds were no longer singing. It was only a matter of moments until they were given the signal. He found himself looking at Annette instead now. He didn't want Dimitri's harried form to be the last thing he focused on before charging into battle. He wanted to memorize her face. Even though the situation didn't call for it, Felix found himself wishing she'd smile. Seeing her bearing such a serious expression didn't feel right, despite standing at the brink of battle.

He swallowed back an unfamiliar swell of emotion. Facing the battlefield was just another part of life. Working alongside his former classmates was commonplace by now. But something about this battle felt different, and Felix couldn't help but recall Sylvain's earlier comments about the purpose behind becoming Annette's adjutant.

_You two pair up, she sings, you get that song out of your head, and then you can move on with your life, right?"_

Except he absolutely, definitely, assuredly did _not_ want to move on with his life. And in order to figure out _why_, all he could think of was to become her adjutant.

"If that's the case then, I don't want to survive," Annette answered after a pause, catching his eye, "I want to _live_. So let's do our very best!" As if reading his mind, she offered an encouraging smile.

There was no time to respond. The signal sounded, and the air around them seized and quivered as their forces rushed into action. The first wave of enemies came into sight, and a wave of fire magic exploded across their infantry lines. They split off from the main force, following the professor's directions.

Out of the corner of his eye, Felix spied Dimitri carving his way through a line of foot soldiers. His swings were wide and reckless, befitting of a manic animal rather than a prince leading a battle charge.

_He's out of control. It's a miracle he's even listening to the professor's orders at all. Someone needs to reign him in, and fast—_

"Felix!"

A gentle gust of wind tousled his hair as an arrow whizzed by his cheek. Annette stood only a few paces away, her hands still glowing from the wind spell. Had she cast her magic only a moment later, the arrow would have met its mark instead of getting blown off course.

"We have to focus!" She reached out and grabbed his arm as if trying to shake him from his thoughts, "I know it's upsetting watching him, but we'll be no help to Dimitri if we're dead!"

She was right. She was right, and he knew it. He stared back. Her eyes were wide and pleading. For the first time in ages, it felt as though someone else—someone _other_ than himself—could see things were terribly, seriously wrong with Dimitri. She quickly released his hand and sprang forward, launching another wind spell that knocked an oncoming bow knight clean off his horse.

Dimitri's voice thundered across the battlefield. He roared as his scythe cleaved through the enemy forces like a rabid Demonic Beast crushing blades of grass underfoot. The sound was guttural, _primal_. There was something unsettling about his delighted laughter.

Felix felt his arm swing out, knocking back another oncoming soldier. His footing was sloppy. Dimitri's descent into madness was impossible to ignore, and Felix knew his own performance in battle was suffering for it. Even if he turned his eyes away from the carnage erupting around his childhood friend, deranged laughter filled his ears and crippled his concentration.

"_Felix_—!"

The soldier he knocked away earlier charged ahead, then abruptly tumbled backwards and landed in a crumpled heap as Annette's spell slammed against his torso. She looked over her shoulder at him in a panic.

_I can't stay focused._

As they locked eyes, Dimitri let loose another peal of laughter from ahead of them. Something in Annette's expression changed. "That's why you can't concentrate," she drew closer and frowned. Her next spell glimmered at her fingertips, ready and waiting at a moment's notice. "It's Dimitri, isn't it?"

He swallowed back the urge to protest. Admitting Dimitri's laughter was distracting felt weak and embarrassing. Not only was it distracting, it was _worse_ than before, worse than when they suppressed the uprising, worse than when he witnessed his friend's animalistic bloodlust the first time. But the battlefield wasn't the time or place for distractions or embarrassment.

"It's Dimitri," he confirmed with disgust.

Felix knew she could just as easily cite his own words from earlier. After all, even a moment's hesitation could mean the difference between life and death in war. But instead of berating him, she drew in a deep breath and studied their surroundings, as if to confirm there were no immediate threats nearby. "Stay next to me," Annette commanded. "And listen _closely_. Don't listen to anything else. I'll relay any of the orders from the professor. I want you to follow my voice, okay?"

"You're not breaking battle formation, are you?"

"What?!" she looked somewhat flustered. "N-no! I..._augh_, this is easier if you don't look at me!"

"If I don't—wait, what? I'm your adjutant, what are you talking about?"

Suddenly she spun around and pressed her back against his. The sensation sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. "Just follow my voice, okay?! No one else's!"

A pegasus rider abruptly burst forth from the cover of the nearby treetops and swooped towards them before he had a chance to push for more information. Felix gripped the hilt of his sword and inhaled, waiting for Annette's instructions. But instead of belting out orders—

_"Take care, beware,_

_"A dungeon's traps are everywhere!"_

Felix quickly dodged the incoming attack with ease before landing two consecutive strikes, each matching her rhythm perfectly.

_"Twists, turns, torches burn,_

_"The dungeon's map takes time to learn!"_

Somewhere in the back of his mind he sensed Annette's movements behind him, but the noise of the battlefield and Dimitri's laughter began to melt away. It felt as though he was back in the training hall again, striking and slicing to the beat of her song. His feet moved on their own in time with her singing. Even the chime of his crest seemed to pair with the pitch of her voice as it filled his ears.

_"Dark halls, stone walls,_

_"Take cautious steps—watch out! Don't fall!"_

Felix paused to catch his breath. They had successfully cleared their area of any nearby enemy forces. Annette released a little sigh from behind him and leaned against his back once more. All his earlier focus suddenly unraveled at her touch, and catching his breath was even more difficult than before.

"Okay," she announced. "The professor is sending us south—we need to take out the archer stationed at the ballista to clear the way for Dimitri," Annette drew forward and began striding across the field.

"Right."

"We can do this. We have to stay focused," her eyes narrowed as she scanned the battlefield, "I can't tell who's with the Empire and who's with the Alliance, but the professor seems to have a better idea. He's directing Dimitri along with Rodrigue and his battalion. If we can just make this last push, I think we have a really good chance!"

"Right," he echoed again and fell into step alongside her. Felix couldn't resist casting a side glance her way. "So…dungeons, huh?"

"D-don't look at me like that!"

"_Dungeons_? We're on an open field."

"I know that!" Annette's voice rose with embarrassment and her cheeks turned pink, "but it was all I could think of! The Dungeon Song is in two-four time, and that tempo seemed like a good fit for your battle style!"

"Two-four time?"

"Two beats for each measure! You know," she suddenly swerved to the side and shot off two consecutive spurts of wind magic, striking an enemy footsoldier nearby, "One-two!"

"One-two?"

"Three-four!"

"Five...six?"

"N-_no_! It's _two-four_ time!"

Felix tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword as the ballista came into view. Hearing Annette explain the merits of two-four time would have to wait. Standing atop the hill was an imperial soldier taking aim with the ballista. For a fleeting moment, Felix wondered if the reclusive Bernadetta from the Black Eagles house would've been manning the ballista in the soldier's place, had the professor not recruited them to their own class all those years ago.

"—I mean, it's not a perfect match, and I know there are a few words that don't completely sync up perfectly—"

Something didn't feel right. The soldier was almost _too_ visible, their position exceptionally convenient for an ambush. Felix reached to pull Annette back but was too slow. The second they set foot on the platform, a volley of fire arrows soared overhead, then sank deep into the wood with a sickening chorus of thuds as the platform exploded into flames.

"Glory to the empire!" the soldier hollered above the fray, taking aim with the ballista and firing.

Annette immediately raised another wall of wind, deflecting his projectile and cutting her off from the flames. The gust of air fanned the fire surrounding them. With a surge of adrenaline, Felix sprang forward and struck the soldier down. Somewhere underneath the sound of blood pumping in his ears he sensed the Major Crest of Fraldarius activate and heard the thud of the soldier's body hit the platform.

"Felix?!"

The swordsman spun on his heel in a panic, then immediately shielded himself from the rising flames. "W-what?! Where—" he covered his face with his shoulder and coughed. "Where are you?!"

"I'm right here! Where are _you_?! Are you okay?!"

_Dammit. I'm supposed to be the adjutant. How do we keep getting separated every time we work together?!_

"I'm fine," he coughed again, a fresh wave of panic drowning out the earlier adrenaline rush from striking down the imperial soldier. The flames were spreading fast, and it was impossible to see through the smoke. Each second they stay separated was a second things could take a turn for the worse, and he had no way to protect her. "Where are you?! Can you follow the sound of my voice?!"

"N-no! Don't do that, I'm fine! Follow mine instead!"

"Don't be so stubborn!"

"You're the stubborn one! Felix, _I'm_ covered by my wind spell," Annette's voice was high and anxious, "but _you're_ not!"

He crouched down, but even with the shift in height the smoke was still too thick. Breathing was becoming laborious, she was right about that. "Fine then, I'll come to you. Keep talking!"

"A-about _what_?!" the panic in her voice was rising.

"It doesn't matter! Whatever keeps you calm!"

"I...I can't!"

Felix wheezed. His throat was burning. There was no way to know which direction to head in, and Annette wasn't responding. He swallowed. Now was not the time for his partner to freeze up with fear. "Annette, I _need_ you to tell me where you are!"

"I-I…!"

The flames seemed to intensify with each passing moment. Even the most hardened soldiers would be afraid in such conditions. Felix pulled his cloak over his nose and coughed a third time, then drew a deep breath from underneath the fabric. If Annette was too scared to guide him, he was going to have to take the lead instead.

"F-Felix?! Please tell me you're still okay!"

He took another step forward, slow and cautious. The cover of his cloak was enough to minimize smoke inhalation. He just needed to keep talking in hopes it would lure Annette closer to him and break her from her frightened paralysis. A sudden idea took hold. "_A bitter lemon, sour and sharp_," Felix shouted over the roar of the flames, "_you cut through every dish you meet_…"

"Felix!" Annette's voice was closer now. Her earlier anxious tremor was replaced with something more upbeat. Hearing the panic melt from her voice was a comfort and spurred him on. Felix knew how the entire song went. How could he not? Each night it endlessly repeated through his head as he tried to sleep. He knew he couldn't carry a tune, but _reciting_ lyrics didn't require a melody.

_"All that's missing to curb your edge is a little dash of something sweet—!"_

Suddenly the flames in front of Felix parted, and Annette stood opposite him. A shroud of wind magic surrounded her like a glowing bubble. Her eyes lit up with relief and she rushed to his side, her bubble enveloping him. He drew a deep breath. Finally, fresh, clean air. And seeing her unscathed and smiling made each breath feel even more satiating.

"C-come on!" she grabbed his hand. "I'll push a path through and get us off the platform before it burns up!"

There was no time to dwell on the unsettling feeling that kept seizing in his chest at her touch. Felix took ahold of her hand. The flames parted around them like a ship cutting through choppy waters. The swordsman marveled at how the embers deflected off her invisible barrier of wind and evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a flash and a wisp of smoke.

"Annette?!"

The sound of hoofbeats drew close. The pair stepped out of the flames and set foot on grass, away from the fire and in the clear. Annette lowered her wind spell just in time to see Ashe gallop up to them, Mercedes at his side.

"Ah! Mercie! Ashe!" Annette cried. "Are you two okay!?"

Felix swallowed back the burning sensation rising in his throat. "We can catch up later, this isn't the time! Where's the wild boar!?"

"The empire is retreating, we've won!" Mercedes rushed to Annette's side and began wiping soot off her friend's cheek. "Oh _Annie_, we were so worried!"

_Retreating. So that means Edelgard…_

"We won?!" Annette exclaimed. "Felix, we did it!"

Felix surveyed their surroundings and exhaled in relief. The only enemy forces nearby were fallen corpses. By taking out the imperial soldier manning the ballista, they managed to allow Dimitri safe passage to make his strike and push through without the risk of falling under fire. The professor's strategy was solid, even if he didn't account for surprise arson.

"That was incredible!" Annette squeaked, the words spilling out in an excited tumble, "I mean, it was _scary_, and I know I froze up, but we did it! And you even—_ohmigosh_, you even remembered my _song_, it was the perfect idea! Your fast thinking saved us!" Her eyes were shining. Even with ashes on her face, Annette seemed to glow brighter than the very flames that had surrounded them only moments earlier.

Felix felt Ashe's gaze lingering on him and realized he was still clutching Annette's hand. He snapped back in embarrassment. The bewildering mixture of emotions he suppressed earlier came rushing back, filling his face all the way to the tips of his ears with an unwelcome burst of heat. He hoped his own cheeks were covered with soot and would mask the flush of color.

"W-we saw you take out the soldier," Ashe added once Mercedes finished fussing over Annette, "and then the fire broke out. We thought…"

Annette scowled. "I never expected that they'd play so _dirty_. Setting the platform on fire like that… even if we hadn't stopped them from using the ballista, they… they wouldn't have _survived_ something like that! Do you think that soldier even knew that's what they were planning!?"

Something told Felix that Edelgard knew exactly what she was doing, and the archer most likely had no idea they were meant to be a sacrifice. The emperor's ruthlessness was cold and calculating. If Dimitri was crazed and unhinged, Edelgard was the complete opposite, yet both were unstoppable forces on the battlefield.

_At least for now he was able to push her back… but we're just going to keep repeating this until one yields, or worse…_

Before Felix had the chance to speak up, a wyvern touched down next to them in a cloud of dust. Sylvain dismounted in a panic.

"Sylvain!" Annette waved him over.

But the redhead rushed ahead as if her voice never reached his ears. He grabbed Felix by the shoulders and struggled to catch his breath. "F-Felix—"

"For the millionth time, we're fine! We need to stop chatting and regroup—"

"No," Sylvain's voice was harried as his grip tightened, "it's Rodrigue. He's… he's _dead_, Felix."


	16. Rubato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Reassurance?" Felix scoffed, "If you're about to spout off some pathetic drivel about my father's death and his noble sacrifice, you can forget it. I've heard it all before. I don't need reassurance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed this chapter. That's all I'm gonna say.

Mercedes's hook weaved in and out, over and under the loops of yarn in a smooth, steady motion. Constant, unwavering, mesmerizing, and normally a comfort Annette enjoyed watching in the evening candlelight before bed. But even with her most steadfast concentration, it was impossible to keep focus on her friend's crocheting. Annette rolled over and faced the wall adjacent to her bed with a sigh.

"Annie? Am I keeping you up? I can go back to my room if you'd prefer."

"No... I'm not sleeping."

"It's been a long week," Mercedes added after a pause, "if we're aiming to reclaim the capital soon, you're going to need all the rest you can get."

"That's...! I mean… it's not that," Annette mumbled into the pillow and drew the blankets up closer under her chin. Despite her best efforts, peace of mind and relaxation continued to evade her ever since the battle on Gronder Field.

The weeks following their clash flew by in a frenzied rush, and everything after their victory seemed to fall into place as they prepared to reclaim the capital. As much of a reassurance it was to watch Dimitri return to his senses and take charge once more, Annette was still unsettled. Even her father's countenance appeared greatly cheered by the change in direction. Finally he was talking to her again and even presented her with years of written letters in a display of goodwill to make amends, yet...

_This is a turning point for us, right? For everything we've worked so hard for. But..._

The candlelight flickered across the wall, Mercedes's shadow growing in size as she moved her chair to the edge of Annette's bed. "I know it's not," her friend answered gently. "But if you want me to leave you alone, I understand."

Annette flopped back over, her nightgown tangling with the bed sheets. "No! I just..._ugh_," she buried her face in her hands. "Mercie, I think I must be the absolute worst person."

"The worst? That's a little bit of a stretch, wouldn't you say?"

"Okay, maybe not the _worst_-worst, but I'm pretty high up there!"

"Annie," Mercedes laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, "you know that's not true…"

"It...it _feels_ like it!"

"You're my best friend in the whole world. Do you truly think I would befriend someone like that?"

Annette groaned and pulled back the sheets. "It's just… Mercie, I...I feel like it's _my _fault."

"Oh, _no_…" Mercedes leaned back in the chair, her hand still resting atop Annette's shoulder as she set her crochet work down. "You know that's also not true. Lord Rodrigue… it wasn't _anything_ to do with you, Annie."

The source of Annette's guilt went unsaid, but Mercedes always seemed to know. Shame churned uncomfortably in her stomach. "If I hadn't frozen up during battle, if I had paid more attention to our surroundings—"

"But none of that was your fault. These things _happen_ in war, after all."

"No!" Annette tossed off her blankets and sprang out of bed. Her bare feet against the thin dormitory carpet felt cold and unsteady. "Mercie, if it weren't for me, we might've been able to _stop_ it! We… we were so busy focusing on the empire's retreat. If I hadn't been so scatter-brained, Lord Rodrigue might..._Felix_ might…"

"Annie! I'm disappointed in you."

"W-what…?"

"Just listen to yourself!" Mercedes's voice suddenly took on a sharper tone, "Is that the sort of thing you think Lord Rodrigue would want to hear? We all have things we regret during the war," her friend's hands slowly closed around her crochet hook, "but it was _you_ who taught me that we have to keep trying our best without giving up!"

"I'm not giving up! I… I…"

_It's not me I'm feeling sorry for._

An unsteady silence blanketed the room. Mercedes's watchful stare was not unkind. As usual, Annette felt as though her friend could see straight through her to the heart of her troubles. She slowly sighed and began folding up her crochet project. "Normally I don't like to interfere but… you haven't exactly been subtle. I know your _reasons_, but...I think you're approaching this the wrong way."

"Subtle? _Reasons_? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Annie. You've been avoiding Felix, haven't you?"

The carpet under her feet felt even colder and scratchier than it did moments before. "I-I am not!"

"You moved your chair to the other side of the table in the middle of our strategy meeting."

"I was having trouble seeing the professor!"

"You skipped stable duty yesterday. You _never_ skip your chores."

"I… I had a stomach ache!"

Mercedes gently smoothed her palms across the skein of yarn resting in her lap. "If you say so… but I don't think you have anything to be ashamed of. In fact, keeping your distance might do more harm than good."

Something cold twisted in her stomach. "Harm?"

"I'm always here for you as your friend," Mercedes rose from her chair and returned it to the desk, taking care not to scrape it across the floor. Her voice resumed its usual, gentle softness, "But I should be going. It's late, and you _did_ have a stomach ache, after all," she hovered by the doorway with her candle in hand, "Just...try to get some sleep, okay?"

The right response never came. Annette could only nod and stand in place as Mercedes quietly closed the door behind her. The single remaining candle atop her desk flickered feebly. With a heaving sigh she slowly sat back down on the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands again.

"What am I doing…" Annette murmured to herself. "Mercie's right, this isn't like me at all."

When she closed her eyes, the scent of smoke and the sounds of the battlefield came rushing back all too quickly. Her throat burned as if she were still surrounded by the flames. She ran over the scene in her mind again and again, as if there were some way to change the course of events and save Rodrigue from death. But even if such a miracle were possible, it was Rodrigue's sacrifice that saved Dimitri.

Annette lowered her hands and stared down at her lap in thought. "If he had any idea just how _much _it saved Dimitri… or maybe he knew all along what would happen."

Rodrigue's sacrifice had an undeniable benefit beyond just saving the prince's life. It also somehow managed to bring Dimitri himself back from the brink of whatever abyss he'd been staring down into ever since the group reunited after five years apart. Finally seeing glimmers of the old Dimitri she remembered from their school days was deeply comforting. But knowing that came at the cost of Rodrigue's life was a difficult fact to accept. An even exchange, Annette mused—in a morbid sort of way, Dimitri was brought back from the dead at the expense of Rodrigue's own life.

"But Felix… now he has no one left."

The lone candle at her desk flickered again, reminding Annette that she was alone with her thoughts. Her eyes strayed over to the stack of envelopes pushed off to the side of her desk.

_Father's letters… I still haven't decided if I want to read them yet._

"Augh!" Annette grabbed her shawl and whipped it around her shoulders in sweeping, frustrated motion. "This is stupid. Mercie is right," she grumbled and jammed her feet into the slippers resting at the foot of her bed. "I'm just _sitting_ here feeling sorry for myself! Well _no more_—! Father, Rodrigue, Dimitri… I'm not going to let it get me down!"

She scooped up her candle and set off down the dark dormitory corridor, across Garreg Mach's grand hall, and over the stone bridge. There was no real destination in mind. Just simply moving was enough to keep away from the mess of emotions clouding her thoughts. The flame of her candle seemed to bob ahead of her with each step until she reached a large, familiar entryway.

The monastery cathedral never failed to disappoint, and in the dark it somehow managed to exude an even more impressive aura than its usual daytime glow. Annette pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders as she stood in front of the altar. The nights were still cold, even as spring continued to blossom around them, and the damage to the cathedral was such that they weren't fully shielded from the elements. After taking in the surroundings, she bowed her head and closed her eyes out of reflex.

_I guess this is where I pray, right?_

But instead of a well-rehearsed prayer, the only thing that came to mind to ease her nerves was a song. Annette hummed, a low, steady melody. With each beat her anxiety slowly melted away. No matter what hardships life tossed her way, music continued to serve as her best armor and most reliable shield to weather the storm.

A sudden clattering broke her concentration. Annette immediately spun around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with a ghost from one of Mercedes's stories, only to lock eyes with the one person she'd been trying her hardest to avoid. A few paces behind her stood Felix, frozen in place like a small child caught pilfering from the cookie jar. The source of the noise was most likely the standing candelabra he held awkwardly at his side, preventing it from falling over.

"I-I'm _so_ sorry," Annette flailed, her chest tightening in a panic simply from catching his eye. "I didn't mean to interrupt you! I mean, I didn't even know you were here! I just figured it was late and I was alone—"

"You didn't interrupt anything," he realigned the candelabra and shuffled uncomfortably. "Sorry for startling you."

"No, I'm okay," she replied, "but...what are you doing here?"

_Wait, what kind of stupid question is that!? Of course he'd be here; it's only natural to want some alone time to pray after losing a loved one!_

"I… needed to drop something off in the comment box."

"The comment box? After midnight…?"

"...Yes."

Something in his posture suggested there probably was nothing left behind in the comment box, but pushing the subject seemed insensitive. "Ah," she answered lamely after another pause.

"How's your stomach?"

"My...stomach? Why?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Stable duty? Dedue filled in for you."

_Oh. That._

"I-it's great!" Annette gave her belly a hearty pat, then immediately turned red with shame. This time she was the one caught in a lie. "Just a little indigestion, haha…"

"Good. We can't afford to take any chances with the next battle."

"Of course not!"

Despite the candelabra standing upright once more, Felix had yet to let go. "That… that wasn't a prayer hymn," he blurted out after a moment.

"What?"

He broke eye contact and realigned the candelabra. "Your song."

"It wasn't meant to be," she confessed. "It's just a little tune for myself when I need reassurance—oh! But...I mean… I'm not saying that _you_ don't need reassurance, that is to say—"

"Reassurance?" Felix scoffed, "If you're about to spout off some pathetic drivel about my father's death and his _noble sacrifice_, you can forget it. I've heard it all before. I don't need reassurance."

"No! That's…" Annette paused, and the earlier tension seizing her shoulders finally released. Maintaining the awkward, standoffish wall separating the two of them was too much effort. After days of avoiding him, she simply didn't have the willpower to keep up the charade. "That's not it at all, actually. I'm not going to tell you, 'he was the ultimate hero,' or whatever it is people seem to want to say," she admitted, "They _mean _well… they really do, but I won't say it. Because _hearing_ that stuff...it doesn't really help."

Felix's grip on the candelabra loosened slightly. "No. It doesn't. But he did what he wanted. The old man always did what he wanted."

"I know," Annette felt a sad smile spreading across her face in spite of herself. "And then you're left picking up the pieces, right?"

He slowly released his hold on the candelabra without responding.

That same nervous, fluttering sensation from earlier seized her chest, but she kept going. "My father's dream—no, his _purpose_—was always to protect the royal family. It was what he lived for! But somewhere along the way…" Annette's fingertips trailed across the frayed edges of her shawl as her mind wandered to painful memories, "I still don't fully understand why he walked away from _our _family. Me, mother… he left us all behind. Now he's _here_, and I should be happy I get a second chance, but I'm still picking up the pieces."

Felix grunted as a sign he was listening. She felt his eyes closely watching her. Normally his silence carried an intimidating and judgmental air, but this time felt different.

"I guess...what I'm saying is, even if his reasons were 'knightly' or 'noble', it doesn't mean it's _not _going to hurt when you're left behind. Maybe it was the right decision for him to make, but it doesn't mean _you _have to be okay with it!"

"Heh," Felix ran a hand through his hair and chuckled.

"W-what?! I don't think there's anything funny about this!"

He shook his head. "It's not that. You're just the first person I've spoken with who isn't talking about him like some glorified deity."

"Well...I mean…"

"Don't—" he held up a hand. "It's enough. What you said… I needed to hear that."

"I guess for me..._I _needed to _say_ it," she shyly rubbed her nose. "Oh, this is so embarrassing! Here I am trying to reassure _you_, and I wind up talking more about myself and my own worries. How selfish can you get?!"

Felix shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, it almost appeared as though he was suppressing a smirk. "That's rich. When was the last time _you_ allowed yourself to be selfish?"

"A-all the time!"

"That's doubtful."

"If I hadn't been so selfish and _stupid_ during the battle, things might've been different!"

"It wasn't selfish. Even the best of soldiers would panic under those conditions," Felix answered after a moment and slowly sat in the nearest pew, folding his hands and resting them under his chin. "And for what it's worth, I don't blame you. So don't waste your breath blaming yourself. For what happened with my father..._and_ yours."

The weight of his words slowly sunk in.

_That's right… He's completely right. This whole time I've been blaming myself for my father's departure. But he did what he wanted, just like Rodrigue did._

All the recent days spent avoiding Felix in the halls suddenly felt immensely foolish. Focusing on building a wall between them, distancing herself in fear that he would hold her accountable for his father's death... without realizing they were both suffering from the same sort of pain.

_This entire time… I probably understand better than anyone what it feels like to be left behind. And he understands me, too._

Relief washed over her. She sat next to him in the same pew with a sigh.

_Mercedes was right… I should've just talked instead of avoiding it all._

"Well then…" Annette drew in a deep breath, "it's a promise! So long as _you_ don't blame _yourself_ either. I'm holding you to that, you know!"

Felix continued staring straight ahead at the cathedral altar. Moonlight slowly slipped through the cracks in the damaged wall, painting fractured patterns of light across the stone. After another pause he leaned forward, still resting his chin atop his hands. "I changed my mind."

"Huh? About what?"

The tips of his ears were tinged red. "I need reassurance."

"W-what?"

"Tch. Whatever it was you were humming for yourself. I changed my mind. I want to hear it."

"Ah," she felt her own face grow warm. That familiar, fluttering sensation that had become practically commonplace over recent months flared up with a vengeance. "But… it's not a proper hymn, and we're in the _cathedral..._!"

"So you'd rather _argue_ with me in church instead of hum?"

"What?! No!"

"Heh," Felix turned his palm inwards, covering his mouth. He was definitely hiding a smirk now. "How blasphemous."

"F-fine then! Since you _insist_."

Annette leaned back in her pew and closed her eyes, humming the same wordless melody from earlier. The tune was dearly familiar. It was the same piece that once quelled her mother's tears, the same song that kept her striving forward during the hardest times in the magic academy, the same melody Annette relied on again and again each time life seemed insurmountably difficult. All her memories tied to this particular song were heavy with loss, grief, and strife.

But now she was sharing her song. Annette snuck a sideways glance, still humming. Felix remained with his chin on his hands and his eyes closed. For the first time since departing Gronder Field, his expression was peaceful. The emotion she was imprinting on this melody didn't carry the same negative energy from her past recitations.

_I suppose it is blasphemous to think such things in such a holy place._

_But…_

_Felix Hugo Fraldarius, I think I like you. Very, very much._


	17. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s no harm in thinking of the future. And I don’t just mean the future of the kingdom,” Dimitri’s expression softened. “I mean our comrades. Our friends. This war will end, one way or another. And if we all survive… then what? Surely you’ve asked yourself the same questions at least once or twice, Felix.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-support time for Dimitri, and a bit of post-victory revelry. There's a stark tonal difference between scenes, but Felix needs some time to think.
> 
> Happy NaNoWriMo, folks!

The raucous celebration continued long into the night and showed no signs of stopping any time soon. It came as no shock. In fact, Felix thought wryly to himself, he’d be more surprised if the festivities ended early. He leaned against the stone wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on the cheers and laughter bubbling up from the crowds filling the kingdom streets and castle. 

_ We really did it. But it’s going to require more than just taking back the kingdom to win this war. _

“Ah, I thought I’d find you here, Felix.”

He grunted and drew himself away from the wall. Felix knew it was only a matter of time before this conversation was going to happen, but he wasn’t about to give his interruptor the satisfaction of catching him off-guard. “You. Don’t you have another speech to give?”

Dimitri approached him, one hand casually resting at his side, the other adjusting his fur cloak. It felt strange hearing him speak in such affable tones again. But after years of friendship he still couldn’t fool Felix. That unsettled tremor resting just below the surface of his voice was detectable, but just barely. “There’s nothing more I could say I haven’t already announced,” Dimitri replied, “and I’ll confess, I’m rather fatigued with all the talking.”

“Heh. You’re going to have to get used to it again. The people want to hear from you.”

“And hear from me they shall. This is only just the beginning,” he answered with a quiet exhale. 

Silence fell between them, the sounds of the festivities muffled and far away. Felix narrowed his eyes, his hand slowly drifting towards his hilt resting at his hip. “I have a question for you,” he demanded, making no effort to ease the edge in his voice, “Answer quickly before my hand slips and I cut you in half.”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow from underneath the strap of his eyepatch. “Always so ominous. What is it, Felix?”

“Sometimes you have an animal’s face, contorted with anger and bloodlust. At other times, a man’s, with a friendly smile. Which is your true face? Because I know which one I saw during your speech tonight, but those people—_ your _ people, they don’t know the face we saw on the battlefield today. They haven’t seen it. If you insist on wearing a mask while leading this country, it’s only going to be a matter of time before you slip and the mask falls.”

“Do not waste your breath on questions with such obvious answers,” Dimitri chuckled to himself. The sound was hollow. “They are both the real me. My father, my friends, Glenn… They all meant a great deal to me. And they were all brutally slaughtered. I alone survived,” he drew a slow, shaky breath, the emotion he had worked so hard to conceal was gradually seeping through despite his best efforts. “If I do not shoulder the anguish and regret they must’ve felt, who will?”

The mention of his brother’s name amongst the dead rang in his ears. Felix felt his mouth contort into a bitter smirk. “Hah. So that’s how you justify your atrocities.”

“What do you mean?”

_ Don’t give me that look. I know you. You’re smarter than that. _

“‘_I will fulfill my duty to the late king_,’” he intoned. The words came easily. How could they not? Words of praise and encouragement may be commonplace in some families, but in the Fraldarius household it was _ that _ proclamation that was uttered regularly. How many times had he heard that line? Certainly more often than words of encouragement. “My old man used to say that over and over, like a mantra.”

Dimitri remained silent, but Felix could sense the fire rising behind his friend’s expression. His remaining eye stared back, gaunt and piercing. 

How nauseating,” Felix continued. “No one seems to understand. The dead won’t acknowledge your loyalty. They don’t _ care_,” he spat. “What a load of bunk it is, pretending to serve a corpse. You’re serving your own ego.”

“You are wrong.”

“No, I’m not. The dead are dead, the living are living. You have to respect that boundary. If you keep stringing gravestones around your neck, you’ll snap.”

“Even still…” Dimitri’s hand trembled at his side and slowly closed into a fist. “I cannot forget them, nor can I let them go.”

“Then keep those thoughts to yourself. If you’re too weak to do that, abandon your throne. Become a grave keeper.”

“Felix…”

_ My old man couldn’t see it. The others can’t see it. But I can, and it needs to be said. _

Harsh truths were never easy to administer. And with the death of his father, Felix was painfully aware of the fact that he was the only remaining survivor suited for the task. He was the only one who knew Dimitri well enough to deliver the words his childhood friend desperately needed to hear. Anyone strong enough could’ve won the battle to reclaim the kingdom. On the battlefield, winning and losing were simple. But governing the kingdom was complex. Not just anyone could successfully steer Faerghus into a new era.

_ So who will lead us after the war? Beast or man? Only one will be successful. _

“I’m not immune to emotion, you know. Far from it,” Felix felt his voice crack and silently cursed himself for allowing his resolve to slip. “I haven’t gone a day without questioning why my father and brother had to die, while I survived. I’ll bear this pain until the day I die, but I refuse to wallow in it,” he said and finally removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. “I have more important things to do than blubber for my whole life.”

“… Heh. You know, Felix, you really are growing more and more like your brother. Always so sarcastic, and constantly looking for a fight. But deep inside, more than anyone, you—”

“What are you getting at?” he snapped.

“Oh… It’s nothing. But allow me to thank you,” Dimitri slowly released his clenched fist, a sigh seeming to emanate along the length of his arm. “Your perspective has opened my eyes.”

“Hmph. Not my intention. I couldn’t stand the pathetic look on your face. That’s all.”

“I see,” Dimitri chuckled. The sound this time was warm and familiar. “If you say so, then we will leave it at that.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I have every intention of fulfilling the duty my father left behind. But I refuse to serve a beast. A beast is perfectly suited to rip through its foes in battle, but it has no place governing the people. Monsters fight. Humans rule.”

“Then I suppose it’s fortunate I bear both faces… as we will see our fair share of battles in the coming months before we can consider the future of the kingdom,” Dimitri hesitated, his voice rising with curiosity, “Does this mean you plan to carry House Fraldarius after the war?”

The question did not come as a surprise, but Felix couldn’t help but feel wary. “Don’t be cocky. Making plans for after a war we haven’t even won yet?”

“There’s no harm in thinking of the future. And I don’t just mean the future of the kingdom,” Dimitri’s expression softened. “I mean our comrades. Our friends. This war will end, one way or another. And if we all survive… then what? Surely you’ve asked yourself the same questions at least once or twice, Felix.”

“I see no point wasting my time thinking about hypotheticals.”

“There’s nothing wasteful about considering your own future.”

A delighted whoop rang through the halls followed by the clinking of drinks; no doubt another toast was being raised. This time Felix was relieved to be interrupted. He waved a dismissive hand and tossed his cloak back over his shoulder as a wordless farewell, leaving Dimitri standing alone.

_ My own future… _

Just as the Fraldarius homestead never doled out loving affirmations, it also never dabbled in the freedom of choice. Despite being second-born (‘an heir and a spare,’ as he recalled Sylvain dubbing the two of them, both destined to follow in the shadows of their older siblings), Felix tread along the path that was meticulously fashioned just for him. Training, schooling, sparring—and after the death of his brother, naturally taking up the mantle someday would fall to him as well. 

But that “someday” rushed up and confronted him far sooner than he ever anticipated. There was no point entertaining Dimitri’s fanciful “what-ifs.” There was no room for imagining an uncharted future, because the only future that loomed ahead was the one his father left behind. Why bother envisioning possibilities when the only thing waiting for him were leftovers and hand-me-downs?

_ I will fulfill my duty to the king. _

Suddenly something reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into a nearby alcove. Felix raised his arm, ready to disarm his attacker— 

“_Shhh _—!”

Felix immediately complied, falling back into the shadows as a rowdy group of mages traipsed by. It only took him a moment to recognize them as members of Annette’s battalion. Judging by their identities and the voice of his assailant… he glanced down and confirmed his suspicions at the sight of Annette’s fiery red hair and felt himself freeze up. 

“Damn, didn’t you say she went down this way?”

“I could’a sworn it… then again, everything looks the same ‘round here.”

The first voice whined. It was clear from his tone he was drunk. “Fine, let’s backtrack,” he slurred. “I just… I just wanna hear the _ rest_, you know?!”

“Yeah, yeah,” his equally drunk companion nodded in agreement, steering the rest of the group down a different hallway. Their footsteps tapered off, uneven and clumsy. They continued to banter amongst themselves, but their voices were too far away for Felix to hear. 

“_Finally_,” Annette sighed and slumped over, “I thought they’d _ never _ leave me alone!” she groaned. Her hair was askew, and her cheeks flushed with a patchy, uneven hue. 

Felix realized he was staring and decided that looking down the empty hallway was better. “Mind explaining to me what _ that _ was all about?”

She glanced back at him as if realizing for the first time he was there. “Oh… _ oh_. Felix?! I didn’t realize that was _ you_.”

That was an unusual answer, especially for someone as astute as Annette. Staring at the hallway wasn’t interesting after all. He studied her face. She stared back, and the tiniest of hiccups slipped out.

_ Wait… _

“Annette… have you been _ drinking_?”

“N-not on _ purpose_! We were all celebrating, and then there was a toast, and…” the color across her cheeks darkened, “I’ve never _ had _ anything to drink before! How was I supposed to know that’s what everyone was drinking?!”

“What did you _ think _ people were going to toast with? You didn’t realize anything was _ off _when you tasted the mead?”

“Maybe a little…” she admitted, “But I’m fine! I just… I don’t want them to find me.”

Something cold settled at the bottom of his stomach. A whole host of deeply unappealing scenarios swiftly sprang to mind. The battalions were hired help, and while most were honorable and dependable, they were still outsiders. As formidable as Annette’s magic was in battle, as clever and capable as she was in the classroom, every fiber of his body was bursting with an inexplicable desire to protect her. “...What happened?”

“Oh, _ Felix_! They kept pestering me to _ sing_!”

Uncomfortable nausea gave way to a different sort of discomfort, one he was unable to identify. “Sing? You’re sure?”

“They overheard me during the battle. I didn’t think anyone could hear! And...and I was only _ humming_, so that barely even counts.”

He exhaled. “You shouldn’t have to sing if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I want to!” she clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. “It’s...it’s my dream once this war is over,” she added dreamily. Felix noted the blush spreading across her face this time was far less patchy than earlier. “It’s what I want most of all!”

_ Again with this talk. _

Listening to Dimitri discuss post-war plans left Felix feeling disgruntled. But Annette’s plans were strangely curious to him. He folded his arms in hopes it would give him a disinterested air. “Is that what you’re planning on doing after the war then?”

“Yes! I want to sing for _ everyone_! My father, my mother… we can all go back home together and be a family again,” Annette smiled to herself, as if she were already picturing her dreams coming true, “and of course, I’ll have my own family someday and sing to them too!”

“I don’t see why you can’t then.”

“Well...that requires having my family back together,” she answered simply. Felix couldn’t help but wonder if she would’ve been as unguarded in her response without the assistance of a celebratory drink of mead. “And then I can sing whatever I want!”

“You don’t have to wait until the war is over for that.”

“Well, I’m not about to sing _ that _ song. Not for _ them_!” Annette gestured to the empty hallway. He assumed she was talking about the departed battalion again. She folded her own arms and puffed out her cheeks with a stubborn scowl. “That was _ your _ song!”

His pulse quickened. Surprise turned to confusion, then confusion quickly turned to jealousy before Felix even had a chance to process the emotion. “Why would they know that song?”

Annette placed her hands on her hips, as if chiding him for not following her tipsy train of thought. “I told you! I was humming during battle!”

“Why _ that _ song?”

“Because it’s _ yours_!”

“Wh...what does _ that _have to do with anything?!”

“Everything! I didn’t want to freeze up this time and was trying to stay focused, so I thought… _ your _ song...well, I just figured…” she smiled sheepishly, “I guess I just wanted to!”

“Geez…” he covered his face. It felt hot. “Don’t go scaring me like that.”

“Eh? Scaring you? You mean about the song?”

“No, stupid! The battalion!” 

“How was there anything scary about that?! They were just being annoying, and I didn’t want to sing for them!”

“You—” he swallowed and drew in a deep breath. They were yelling at each other. _ Again_. “Look. It’s late. You don’t have to sing for anyone if you don’t want to. If they come back around, you owe them nothing,” Felix replied. He briefly contemplated offering to scare them off himself, but he worried Annette would consider it an insult to her own abilities. 

“That’s absolutely right! I definitely don’t!”

Felix glanced back down the halls. It was difficult to tell how much of Annette’s bravado was typical, and how much was the mead. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone. More cheers erupted from the castle’s great hall. Maybe it was good she stepped away when she did if people were still drinking. 

Annette tilted her head, watching him closely. “What about you?”

“Eh?”

“After the war? What will you do?”

_ This question again. _

“Isn’t it obvious? I carry out my father’s duty. There’s not much more to say.”

“Ah,” Annette nodded. She seemed to sober up hearing his response. “I suppose that makes sense...but do you _ want _ to?”

“What I want is irrelevant.”

“Okay, but let’s say it _ was _ relevant! Then what?”

“It’s never going to _ be _ relevant.”

“Bah, that’s not the point! Oh, you’re so _ bad _ at this sort of thing! I’ll tell you what—if we win the war, you owe me a proper answer, got it?!”

“My answer won’t change,” Felix shrugged. “You can insist all you like.”

“Fine then. I _ do _ insist!”

“You’re yelling again.”

She scowled. “You really _ are _ a lone wolf, Felix!”

“You’re just figuring this out now?”

Annette’s cheeks burned red. There was something pleasing about watching her fluster. “The professor was right about you. You need to learn how to harmonize with others. You can’t always follow your own tempo, you know!”

Something about her words tugged at him. Even underneath the musical metaphor, the meaning behind her sentiment was clear. Of course he was following his own tempo. And what he wanted… he _ did _ want to revitalize Faerghus and his own territory. Not only that, but without him, what would happen to Dimitri? He _ needed _ to be part of that restoration, not just out of his own desires, but because there was no one else who knew the true Dimitri. 

Didn’t she understand that he had no _ choice _ but to follow his pre-assigned tempo? 

Felix wondered for a brief, fleeting moment what other tempo she had in mind for him. And for another brief, fleeting moment, he almost asked. And for an even briefer moment, he hoped the tempo she had in mind would complement her own. Something pleasant flickered in his chest. He liked the thought.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Annie!” 

Annette turned her head at the familiar voice and swung her arm out in an overzealous wave. “Mercie! I was looking for you too!”

Mercedes’s footsteps were light and quick as she hurried to their side. “I lost track of you after the toast! Is everything okay?” she darted a curious look in Felix’s direction. He wondered just how much of their shouting she overheard. 

“Oh, Felix is just being _ grumpy_.”

“Is that so?” Mercedes giggled, her expression softening. 

Felix tsked irritably. Something about Mercedes’s interruption bothered him. But at least now he knew Annette was in good hands. “It’s nothing. I’m off to bed. We need to prepare for our next move tomorrow.”

“Hmph,” Annette was unimpressed with his answer and tugged at Mercedes’s sleeve. “See what I mean?! Just you wait, Felix! I’ll get that answer out of you!”

“Answer?” Mercedes raised an eyebrow. 

_ That’s definitely my cue to leave. _

“Whatever. I’m leaving,” he turned on his heel and began walking away without looking back. He could feel Mercedes’s watchful eyes following him. Her smile made him uncomfortable, as if she knew far more than she was letting on. And for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, Felix hoped she planned on keeping those thoughts to herself. 


	18. Capriccio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth slowly resumed eating his cookie. His sharp eyes darted across her face. Annette squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. The professor was known to scrutinize the company of those he entertained for tea, but somehow this _time_ felt unsettling, almost as though he could see past the veneer of her request. And Annette definitely did not want him to know the real reason. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took quite a while, but I wanted to make sure I got the tone just right. 
> 
> Also, nearly every line of Byleth's dialogue during tea is rooted in canon choices. 
> 
> Every.  
Last.  
One of them.

The tiered tray of sweets was impressive. So impressive, in fact, that Annette found herself craning her neck just to see the professor’s face over the top of the display. A fragrant cup of sweet apple tea sat between her hands, warm and cheery, but the soothing scent did little to set her at ease. 

It was going to take more than her favorite tea to quell the nervous butterflies in her stomach. 

She shifted in her seat, desperate to catch a glimpse of her professor’s face. The man wasn’t one for many words, but sometimes an expression was worth more. And this question was too important to let it go unanswered, even if his response was nonverbal.

“I was just thinking,” she continued, the words tumbling out faster than she would’ve liked, “and I feel like we work really well together! I know things went without a hitch at Derdriu, so...”

The professor took another cookie from the tray and examined it, then sniffed the frosting. 

_Did he not hear me…? _

“Professor,” Annette raised her voice, “I want your permission to be Felix’s adjutant for the final battle against the empire!”

Byleth took a tentative nibble at the corner, then raised his eyebrows as if to silently express his approval of the flavor.

_Is...is he even listening to me!? _

“Yes, I _ know _ Mercie’s cookies are good—”

“Where are we getting these ingredients? War rations?”

Finally, some kind of response, albeit not the one she was looking for. “_P-professor_!”

“You’re doing great work,” he answered and shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth. 

“That’s...that’s _ not_…” Annette scowled and took a hearty swig from her teacup. A little too hearty. The hot tea burned as it hit the back of her throat. She coughed. 

Byleth somehow always seemed to sense whatever she wanted to talk about before even speaking. Despite his quiet demeanor, Annette suspected he heard every word she said, and he was instead choosing to focus on his teatime sweets. In a way it was a relief. Maybe this time he actually _ wasn’t _one step ahead of her. She silently hoped that was the case. 

The last time she approached the professor with a battle formation request seemed so long ago. After spending the morning rehearsing her prepared speech in front of the mirror, he quickly accepted her request without any further inquiries. At the time it felt like such a big deal—asking to be someone’s adjutant wasn’t typical, and it was the professor’s responsibility to make those assignments.

But this time… this time was harder. This time there was no mirror rehearsal. It was difficult to even put her desire into words, and even harder to craft a speech. And this time they were facing their biggest battle of all. So when Byleth invited her to tea, it felt like the perfect opportunity to spring the question... but now she was having second thoughts, and her courage was quickly dwindling. 

“You know,” Annette said as she selected her own cookie, a large star-shaped pizzelle that just so happened to be blocking her direct line of sight to the professor, “it was actually Ashe who gave me the idea. Well, not the _ first _ time I asked, but we got talking about adjutants, and… well, there was this _ book_—”

“—dreamy knights?” Byleth asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“W-what?!”

_ What is he trying to say?! _

“The book,” Byleth washed down his cookie with some tea. “_Loog and the Maiden of Wind_, right?”

“Oh,” she said flatly. Annette felt her cheeks turn red. Of course he wasn’t making some comment about Felix’s physical appearance, and just thinking about it made her face feel even hotter. “N-no, I think it’s a different book.”

The professor continued to sip from his teacup with no further comment. 

“Professor?”

Byleth slowly resumed eating his cookie. His sharp eyes darted across her face. Annette squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. The professor was known to scrutinize the company of those he entertained for tea, but somehow _ this _ time felt unsettling, almost as though he could see past the veneer of her request. And Annette definitely did not want him to know the real reason. 

“I’m not planning on assigning any adjutants, actually.”

“You… you aren’t? But why?”

He took another sip from his cup. “I need every available resource at the ready. We’ll have to spread out. Fodlan’s future rests on this last effort.”

“Ah…” 

Of course. How could she be so selfish? There was so much ground to cover. It was only natural they would extend their resources to their limit. This was the final push, after all. 

“Your ambitions…” Byleth paused and offered a faintly sympathetic look, “Whatever you need to do before we head out, now is the time.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat. 

_ My ambitions… what is it that I truly want? _

The professor resumed eating his cookie with slow, deliberate bites. She felt like she was under heavy scrutiny again. 

“Maybe I should’ve baked us a cake or something…” Annette sighed and finished the last of her tea. 

_ Wait. _

She slammed her hands on the table and sprang to her feet. “That’s _ it_—! Oh, that’d be perfect! I mean, it wouldn’t exactly be a _ cake_, I know he doesn’t like sweets, but I _ did _ ask Dedue for suggestions and I never got around to making anything for him!” 

Byleth cocked his head in confusion. But it was too late for explanations. Besides, he was the _ professor_, he’d undoubtedly find out what she was talking about eventually, whether she liked it or not.

“Oh, _ thank you_, professor, this is the perfect suggestion!”

Annette offered a polite bow—it would do no good to forget her manners, after all—and immediately tore off through the courtyard. The sound of stone and grass pounding beneath her feet hammered in time with her own pulse in her ears, a frenzied song without words. 

_ I had my chance as an adjutant. Twice. I can’t rely on the professor to set up opportunities for me. _

_ But I _ do _ know how to cook! And… and if I can prepare something that might give him a boost for the next battle… well, that’s just as good as being an adjutant, right?! _

She ran through a list of recipes in her head. Felix was fast and nimble, so maybe something to give him a little extra speed in his step? Or what about a dish to aid his immune system with a bit of pep so he wouldn’t get sick again? Perhaps a good Quin Fish Saute or a Swift Fish Gratin? Of course, it’d need to have _ lemons _ in it somehow— 

Suddenly something collided with her as she crossed the threshold into the great hall, and she tumbled backwards.

“O-oh no, are you okay?! I just—you were moving so fast, I didn’t—” 

The voice of the unintentional roadblock was warm and familiar. “Ashe?” Annette groaned and rubbed her forehead. “I’m fine, you just startled me, that’s all.”

Ashe’s panicked face came into view as he leaned over her. A large bag of dried goods rested over his shoulder, most likely supplies from the market judging by the canvas material. He carefully extended a hand and while maintaining his balance. “I’m so sorry, Annette, are you sure you’re okay?”

She grasped his hand and rose back to her feet. “Never better, actually. In fact, I was just on my way to the kitchen! Is Dedue on duty today?”

“I think so,” he said. “Are you looking to trade?” 

“Not exactly,” Annette hesitated. She recalled the tea party several months ago, Flayn’s persistent attempts at _ girltalk_, and several uncomfortable speculations made by her closest friends. Something akin to guilt squirmed in her stomach. If Ingrid’s comment about Ashe’s adjutant request was to be believed...

_ Is it appropriate to even ask? _

“Ah… Ashe, can I ask you a question?”

“Y-yes?”

“Were you planning on asking to be _ my _ adjutant for the battle at Gronder Field?”

Ashe’s freckles turned two hues darker. “Um… I mean…” he cleared his throat. “That’s… where’s this question coming from?”

_ So it was true. Oh no. _

“I’m sorry! I had no idea... I must have seemed so insensitive at the time!”

A group of monks jostled by, and Ashe shifted his bag out of their way. He looked grateful for the interruption. Once the hallway cleared again, he drew a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s... it’s okay. I mean, I probably should have seen it coming,” he chuckled to himself. “I _ did _say Felix was just like that knight in my story, after all.”

A weight lifted from Annette’s shoulders, one she hadn’t even realized she was carrying. The thought of Ashe being upset with her was unbearable, especially with their final battle in sight. Seeing him smile was a much-needed reassurance. “For what it’s worth,” she said, “you’re still a great knight yourself, Ashe.”

“I… I aspire to be one, but in this case…well, I don’t think I’m quite the same as the knight you’re thinking of.” 

A nervous flutter seized her chest. “I-in the book! I’m thinking about the book!”

“So am I,” Ashe laughed. His anxious tension from moments earlier nowhere in sight. “That’s why I should’ve known from the start. After all, every good knight needs a supporting squire to encourage them.” 

Something in his tone suggested the topic at hand was deeper than just the plot of Ashe’s favorite book. Annette nervously played with the fringe of her shawl. “I… I need to know how that story ended.”

“The ending? I’d never spoil the ending of a good book.”

“I know, it’s just… I don’t have _ time _ to read the whole thing, but… what if… what if that member of the knight’s party was very fond of the _ knight _ in return? What did they do?”

“Annette…” his expression softened. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes! I _ have _ to! Before it’s too late!”

“Too late…?”

“We’re about to head off to the empire at the end of this month! I… I _ need _to know before then.”

He paused, folding his arms in thought. “Honestly? The knight never works up the courage to outright tell her how he feels.”

A sinking sensation dropped in her stomach. “Never?”

“Never.”

“I thought you enjoyed stories with happy endings, Ashe!”

“I didn’t say the ending was unhappy. They successfully complete their mission, restore peace to the land, and their friendship ties them together with a bond that endures the rest of their lives.”

That definitely wasn’t the ending Annette was hoping for, and she knew disappointment was written all over her face. “I guess… that’s as good an ending as I could hope for.”

Her shoulders slumped. Seeking guidance from a storybook felt like a new low. Even if it was a fictional tale, Annette couldn’t help but feel her own circumstances would probably pan out in a similar, unsatisfactory way. Besides, just because the knight in Ashe’s story harbored certain affections didn’t mean _ Felix_— 

Annette swallowed. Was she prepared for that reality? Life wasn’t a storybook. Simply feeling a certain way did not mean her feelings would be mutually returned, or even _ acknowledged_. The best she could hope for was showing her support without overstepping her bounds. Anything beyond that would run the risk of ruining whatever camaraderie existed between them. That sort of bond took years to build, but a single, selfish moment could easily ruin it in an instant. Staying friends was far easier and safer. 

The professor’s advice rang in her ears. 

_ My ambitions… my plans for the future… I want to go home to my family. I want to sing for everyone. I want... _

A twinge of embarrassment tugged at her. Even though it was weeks ago, Annette’s behavior during the celebratory party after the reclamation of the kingdom wasn’t nearly as composed as she’d like. With their final battle in sight, the future weighed heavily on everyone’s mind, and all it took was a few glasses of mead and a convenient encounter in the halls to spill her hopes and dreams to Felix. She was drunk enough to speak her mind, but not so drunk that she couldn’t recall every single awkward word the next morning in vivid, humiliating clarity. Thankfully she had enough self preservation even while tipsy to avoid sharing _ all _ her deepest wishes, but it was still more than enough. 

Of course, in typical Felix fashion, he never made any mention of it, as if it never happened. But he was sharp. There was no way he’d forget, just like he never forgot any of her songs. And just _ knowing _ he wouldn’t forget made everything all the more embarrassing.

_ But… my plans require saying goodbye. And I don’t want to say goodbye. Not yet. _

Obviously Felix’s own aspirations after the war were practical. Assisting Dimitri, carrying out his father’s duty, restoring his territory… all to be expected, and wholly reasonable. What else would they be? It was foolish to expect anything deeper, and _ ridiculous _ to hope that any of his plans involved her whatsoever.

_ What will happen to us after the war? Will we still be friends? _

“Annette?” Ashe’s voice gently cut through her gloom. “Are...you still headed for the kitchen?”

“What?”

“Remember? You asked if Dedue was available… are you planning on baking something?”

“T-that’s right! Well, not necessarily _ baking_, but… I was talking with the professor, and I had the idea of maybe whipping something up for a little boost before our last battle,” she confessed. 

“A boost?” Ashe touched his chin in thought. “That’s not a bad idea,” he mused. “Flayn mentioned there’s an impressive stock of fish in the pond this week. Maybe some Queen Loach or Bullheads might be just what you’re looking for. I’m surprised you’re not baking though. You and Mercie did such a great job with that cake after we returned from Derdriu.”

“You think so?” she puffed out with pride. “That was all Mercie! She’s a magician, I swear! But Felix doesn’t like sweets, so I’m trying to find alternatives…” 

She trailed off and silently cursed herself. Ashe was watching her with a half smile, as if he knew all along who she was _ really _ planning on cooking for. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Ashe reached into his bag and handed her a small parcel, “I’m supposed to be on greenhouse duty today. Why don’t you take over for me, and I’ll go fishing? We can meet in the kitchen after dinner tonight and come up with something together. Maybe even Dedue will have some ideas.”

“You’re offering to help me?”

“Of course I am. What are friends for?”

Annette untied the twine encircling Ashe’s parcel—packets of seeds, each wrapped in thin, brown paper, their labels written by hand. Before the war, seeds were easy to come by and sealed in thick, heavy envelopes, but wartime rendered everything scarce. She marveled at some of the rarer flower and vegetable seeds Ashe managed to acquire. “But… Ashe, will these sprout in time before we depart for the empire?”

“Maybe. We won’t know if we don’t try though. And besides…” he added, his smile warm and gentle, “I did say every good knight needs a squire to encourage them along, even if all they can do is plant seeds for a future they may never see.”


	19. Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My captive! What are you saying?” she squeaked. “Oh my, I'm suddenly really flustered…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter I've been preparing for since starting this story. I can only hope I did it justice. 
> 
> Updates have been a bit slow, so I hope this makes up for the delay.

Felix was certain at first it was just a figment of his imagination. 

After all, that’s how things typically panned out. And over the past several months those figments were becoming a regular part of his mornings, afternoons, evenings, and even occupying the space between dreams as he slept. So when another faint melody began to tickle his ears, Felix simply allowed himself to enjoy the moment and assumed it would vanish as quickly as it began. 

Felix’s footsteps slowed as he paced across the Garreg Mach grounds, coming to a halt in front of the bait and tackle stand by the monastery pond. He strained his ears at the sound. The tune continued to carry through the air. Normally by this point his recurring figments were quick to dissipate. But something was different.

_ I don’t know this song. _

His pulse quickened. He knew he wasn’t creative enough to craft his _ own _ melody. Meaning this wasn’t a figment at all. He tensed up in surprise as the realization dawned on him. 

_ This is something new. _

Where was it coming from? His eyes scanned the area. The sun was beginning to set, and barely anyone was out and about. Ashe sat at the docks, quietly fishing by himself, and the merchant at the tackle stand was in the process of closing up shop for the evening. No one was singing. Felix slowly pivoted and began walking towards the sound, as if pulled by invisible strings. His legs moved on their own, and he was powerless to stop them, even if he desired to do so.

A warm light radiated from the monastery greenhouse. With slow, cautious footsteps he slipped through the crack in the door. The air was warm and humid, thick with the scent of Garreg Mach’s rare assortment of exotic and commonplace plants alike. He quietly stopped behind a large palm frond, peering through the leaflets. There was only one other occupant in the greenhouse, but Felix already knew that. There was no way Annette would ever sing with such openness if she knew there was an audience. A part of him was secretly pleased that no one else was around. He savored the private performance.

“_Sprinkle and scatter, tiny seeds— _

_ Fruit and veggie, flower or weed, _

_ Grow big and strong, reach for the sun... _

_ Your brand new life has just begun!” _

She sang freely, interspersing her lyrics with a few spins and steps that were strongly reminiscent of the footwork the professor was demonstrating in battle recently. But instead of slinging around the Sword of the Creator, her weapon of choice was a packet of seeds, and its contents scattered in the air and peppered the fresh layer of soil beside her.

Felix couldn’t help but admire Annette’s ability to internalize their lessons and shape them into something that was wholly her own. Her imagination seemed to know no bounds. There was a time when he would’ve scoffed at that sort of creative adaptation. Life and death were clear-cut on the battlefield, and there was no space for inbetweens. Yet it was that same creativity she continued to demonstrate that repeatedly came to their aid. That same ingenuity that pulled them out of tight pinches on the battlefield. That same cleverness that made _ him _ feel inspired and demanded his attention. It was a new, different sort of strength, and he felt powerless in its presence. 

Annette performed a little spin as she finished tossing the remaining contents of her seed packet across the soil. She smiled to herself, then tapped the base of the envelope, knocking free a few stragglers. “Nice try, guys. But you can’t hide from me! I’m not about to let Ashe’s hard work go to waste. _ All _ of you, in the soil! No slacking off!”

The sight of Annette outright chastising the laggard seeds was unexpected. He stifled a snort. It wasn’t like they could hear her. Or maybe they could. She certainly sang as if it were possible. 

“Morfis Plums and Pale-Blue Flower seeds… How on earth did he manage to scrounge this up?” Annette mused aloud, then quickly dusted her gloves off with a proud flourish. 

_ Another song? _

“Phew! Now the flowers are all taken care of!” 

_ Huh. Guess that’s that then. _

His shoulders slumped with disappointment. 

The setting sun cast an orange glow through the circular panes of the greenhouse’s arched windows, scattering patterns across the stone floor. She seemed to glow in the light, and he couldn’t help but stare. Even if she wasn’t singing, the strings that pulled him towards the sound continued to tug at him. Felix stepped out from behind the palm, finally in her line of sight.

“Huh?” she finally noticed him, and they locked eyes. “Felix?” 

_ Stupid. What am I doing? _

Felix silently cursed himself. He hadn’t actually thought this far ahead. He knew he _ wanted _ her attention, but he didn’t know _ why_. And he definitely didn’t know what to actually _ do _ with her attention now that he had it. 

“Why are you hiding there?”

“I'm not hiding.”

“No?” Annette folded her arms, that same tone she used only moments earlier when chastising the packet of seeds creeping into her voice, “Then what are you here for?”

_ I have no idea. _

"You don't even have a real reason, do you?”

“No, I don't.”

He swallowed. No point in embellishing, even if a good excuse came to mind. ‘I couldn’t help myself,’ no matter how truthful, was far worse than a simple ‘no.’

“Then why…” Annette slowly uncrossed her arms. The edge in her voice softened. He had her attention at last, and the sensation of being under her close scrutiny was simultaneously exhilarating and petrifying all at once. 

_ It’s not song magic. _

He had to remind himself. Because in the moment, it felt like he was trapped in the thrall of a high-level enchantment. And even worse, he definitely didn’t feel any motivation to break free.

“Felix?”

“It’s not magic,” he affirmed to himself.

“I… what?” she turned a flustered shade of pink, glancing around the greenhouse as if there was a concealed enemy ready to pounce. “What are you talking about? What are you even _ doing _here? Did you just come to make fun of me again!? Because—”

“Because of you.”

“W-what? What’s _ that _ supposed to mean?”

At this point he didn’t care if it was embarrassing. It wasn’t about Sylvain’s suggestion to rid himself of whatever ‘earworm’ had worked its way into his constant waking and sleeping thoughts. It wasn’t her singing. It wasn’t her dancing. It wasn’t the way the sunset caught the highlights in her hair and set them ablaze in a fiery glow. It wasn’t even the endearing lilt in her voice every time she got embarrassed. 

“It’s not magic,” he repeated. “It’s _ you_.”

The pink color dusting her cheeks turned a darker, rosy hue. Just the sight sent a little spark of excitement radiating out from his chest. 

Finally Annette regained her bearings and mustered a faint giggle. “I… well, _ yeah_, it’s me. There’s no one else here. Were you looking for Ashe? We swapped our chores for the afternoon.” 

“I want you to sing for me,” he said. The words began to tumble out before he had a chance to piece his thoughts together. “I hear your voice when I'm asleep, or in battle… It's like… it's like I'm your captive.”

Whatever composure Annette managed to scrounge up immediately withered, and her face burned red. She stared at him, mouth agape and her fingers tangled in the fringe of her shawl. “My captive! What are you saying?” she squeaked. “Oh my, I'm suddenly really flustered…”

“I can't help it,” he admitted. 

_ Then again, I’m not exactly trying to help it. _

His heart was pounding in his ears. It was definitely too late to take everything back. How could he be so impulsive? Maybe it was the humidity. Or perhaps the setting sun was making him disoriented. Either way, somehow through the heady rush clouding his better judgment, reality finally caught up to him, and he looked away. “Ugh! I don't know what I'm saying. Forget I said anything.”

“Felix! Are you… _ blushing_?”

His face felt hot, and he hated it.

“I don't know. Shut up. I'm not blushing.”

Annette’s eyes darted away from him, and she cleared her throat. He felt a pang of guilt for putting her on the spot. An unsteady silence fell between them. It wasn’t the first time Felix requested Annette sing for him. But this time felt different. An all-too familiar ‘fight or flight’ instinct began to creep in, and unlike the battlefield he couldn’t just _ brute force _ his way through an uncomfortable situation. 

“Well!” she dusted herself off, her voice resuming its peppy cheer from moments earlier, “If you feel like _ that _ about it... I suppose I _ could _sing for you sometimes. If you'd like that sort of thing,” she quickly added.

“Oh?” his voice lifted, and he instantly regretted how _ eager _ it sounded. 

_ I would like that_.

The words died somewhere at the back of his throat. 

_ Nevermind. _

“I’d better go. Bye.”

“Hey, wait!” she grabbed his arm. The skin underneath his sleeve prickled at her touch. “You just got here... Do you want to hear me sing or not?!”

“Uh, yes. I do.”

“Well, what song do you want me to sing? Bears, swamp beasties, boxes, or dungeon?”

He knew there was more to that list. How could he not? He memorized them all. “I'd like to hear all of them,” he said. Felix quickly sorted through the running collection of melodies he kept archived in the most treasured corners of his memory before settling on a long-standing favorite. “If you don't mind. Starting with The Library Song, in full.” 

“Well… okay. Just this once. Since you asked so nicely.”

Annette smoothed the front of her dress and drew in a deep breath, then took a little bow to signify the start of her performance. Felix stood back, uncertain where to put his own hands. Should he fold his arms? Keep them at his sides? _ He _ wasn’t the one performing, but what was the actual protocol for being a proper audience? If she was making the effort to perform for him, the least he could do was receive her songs respectfully. 

Yet as soon as she began the first lines of The Library Song, his earlier concerns melted away. Somehow everything sounded even better than it did the first time he heard it. There were definitely some notable additions, and Felix found himself nodding along as the song reached its completion.

“—_What a great job we did! _

_ Who says building isn’t fun? _

_ Our new library is now clean for everyone!” _

She did a little twirl in place again, dipped into a theatrical curtsy, then instantly launched into her next piece. Each tune was different, and each accompanying dance matched her tempo with the same sort of wholehearted sincerity that felt nothing like her earlier bashful tone. Annette’s repertoire seemed bottomless. Bears, swamp beasties, boxes, dungeons, and a whole host of other pieces that were entirely new to Felix—she sang them all with reckless abandon. 

The greenhouse was blanketed in a warm glow. The sun had long-since set, and the brass scones lining the walls twinkled. Light from the full moon overhead slipped through the domed ceiling’s circular panes, painting the floor in a gentle glow. Annette stood radiant in its spotlight, the single performer on a single stage for a single audience member. 

“Ah,” she paused after completing the last stanza of her recent song, then cast him a furtive glance. “Just one more, okay?”

He nodded obediently. Felix knew the thought was foolish, but in the moonlight he worried that speaking aloud in the middle of her performance would somehow break whatever nonexistent magic spell lingered between them. 

Annette drew closer and paced around him in a small circle, keeping him at arm’s length. This wasn’t fencing footwork. It took Felix a moment to realize it was the same initiation maneuver used to signify the start of the White Heron Cup’s dance. He was impressed she still remembered it after five years had passed since the monastery’s last celebration. 

“_A bitter lemon, _

_ Sour and sharp, _

_ You cut through every dish you meet…_”

His breath caught in his chest as he waited for the next line. This was _ their _song. 

She raised an eyebrow and stopped in front of him. The next line never arrived. “Well?”

He stared back. 

“You think I’m going to let you get off with a free performance?” Annette waved a beckoning hand, then took him by the arm, leading the dance. “I sang your part. Now it’s your turn!”

Felix tentatively took a step into the moon’s glow, sharing her spotlight. The sensation of her arm in his was impossible to ignore. He felt like he was one of the seeds in Annette’s packet, jostled out of the corner and thrust into the open, forced to land in the soil and grow—whether he wanted to or not. 

She stared up at him expectantly, and he struggled to find his voice. “Uh…”

“_All _…” she coaxed, offering a smile. 

“_All that’s missing _

_ To curb your edge… _

_ Is a little dash of something sweet.” _

Instant regret washed over him the moment the lyrics left his lips. Stupid. _ Stupid_. Why did he _ sing _ it? He could’ve just intoned it. Spoken it aloud. Hell, even a flat reading would sufficed. Anything would’ve been better than— 

“Felix,” she whispered, her eyes shining and her entire face aglow with moonlight and wonderment and whatever else it was that kept making it impossible to breathe, “you _ sang_.”

“That’s… _ whatever_,” he grunted. “It’s nothing. I’m not great at harmonizing.”

“I didn’t think you were going to _ actually_—” 

“It’s _ nothing_. Forget it.”

Her cheeks grew pink again. “Well, I… I mean, you _ say _ you aren’t great, but it doesn’t matter! You _ did _ it!”

“I didn’t come here to sing.”

Annette’s voice grew soft and low. “Then… what _ did _ you come here for?”

His heart thundered in his ears. She was close. _ So _ close. Almost as close as that day in the training hall when they spared together. And even though the song was over, they remained standing opposite each other in the traditional stance, her hands resting on his arms. After an agonizingly slow moment, he realized she was still waiting for a response. 

“I… I came to hear you sing.”

“To hear me sing.”

“Yes.”

She lowered her eyes. Were her lashes always so long? He didn’t want to stare, but there was nowhere else to look, and Felix didn’t want to be the first to break away. She played with the fringe of her shawl, and opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated as if she were grappling with something. “Well… if singing is what you were looking for,” she said, “you’re in luck, I guess.”

“I am?”

Annette’s hold on his arms tightened. She rose up on her toes and brushed her lips against his cheek. The sensation was light and fleeting, over as quickly as it started. 

“I’m your girl,” she murmured.

He froze in place. 

She released his arms and bolted out the greenhouse door, leaving Felix alone in the moonlight.


	20. Siciliana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She puffed out her cheeks and slammed the knife down a little too forcefully. The platter of fish rattled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holiday hiatus is over, and I'm trash for these tropes.

For as long as Annette could remember, kitchens were a steadfast source of comfort no matter what life may throw her way. They were warm, safe, and full of good smells. Even better, the food crafted in the kitchen brought all the precious people in her life together. Those memories spent together with her family—her _ whole _ family, father included—were dear to her. 

But despite how delightful Garreg Mach’s kitchen smelled, or the cozy glow by the stove, all she could do was sullenly stare at the plate of fish waiting to be cleaned. And unfortunately for her, the fish stared back with hollow, glassy eyes. 

“I am impressed you caught so much,” Dedue said, wiping his knife along a soft towel. “You are quite skilled, Ashe.”

Ashe rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. “You give me too much credit! It’s all thanks to Flayn. She mentioned it was a great time for fishing, and… well,” he gestured out to the fish, “she certainly wasn’t wrong.”

Normally this was the point where Annette would feel inclined to jump into the conversation and admire Ashe’s hard work, or perhaps agree with Dedue that it was worthwhile praise. But the words of her friends seemed almost muffled, as though she were hearing their voices from far, far away. And her mind drifted to that far, far away place, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by the exotic plants of the greenhouse, the sensation of his cheek against her lips— 

_ I can’t believe I did that. _

_ Why did I do that?! ‘I’m your girl’? Who says that? _

_ What is wrong with me?! _

The plate of fish continued to stare back at her. They knew all her dark secrets. 

“Don’t look at me like that...” 

Ashe and Dedue glanced her way, then back at each other. The concern in their eyes did not escape her notice. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. Of course the fish weren’t watching her, much less _ judging _ her.

_ But if they could judge me… I bet they would. _

“Annette? Are you all right?”

“I-I’m fine! Sorry, you two,” she waved her hands and immediately began busying herself with the nearest kitchen duty by mopping down the interior of the sink. “Are you sure you’re still okay with helping out? I’m sorry I… I got caught up yesterday and didn’t make it over.”

_ Caught up? Is that what I’m calling it?! Some ‘friend’ I am… _

Annette shuffled, feeling guilty. After all the hard work Ashe went through to swap chores, gather fish, _ and _ set aside time to cook with her and Dedue, it felt downright scandalous to stand both of them up. Of course she had every intention of meeting in the kitchen after dinner, but…

The memory of Felix’s bewildered face and his rigid, frozen stance in the center of Garreg Mach’s greenhouse as she stepped away from him the night before haunted her. It was never meant to happen. She decided to set aside her feelings and cherish the camaraderie and friendship between them instead of pushing her own selfish whims, then turned around and did the exact _ opposite _ of what she resolved _ not _ to do. 

_ I ruined everything. How could I be such an idiot?! _

Annette glanced down at the towel in her hands and realized she had been wiping down the same small spot in the sink and sighed. If only wiping Felix’s _ memory _ was as easy as a kitchen chore. 

“That is all right,” Dedue said. He began cleaning the scales off the fish with smooth, precise motions. “We are all busy preparing for the final battle.”

“The final battle…” Ashe murmured. Annette noticed his hand waver unsteadily for a moment as he sorted through a bushel of herbs. “It all comes down to this, doesn’t it?”

Dedue set aside the last cleaned fish. “Yes,” he said, then turned to Annette, his eyes warm and kind. “This is a good idea, Annette. I would like to prepare dishes for everyone to aid in the coming battle.”

It felt comforting to tear her mind away from spiraling back to the earlier evening and all the guilty feelings associated with it. Annette smoothed the front of her apron, then plastered on a sunny smile. “Absolutely, Dedue! I’m just so grateful for your help! I don’t want any mishaps again,” she said. “I doubt it would do _ anyone _ any good to boil over another pot of stew! So what _ are _ we making?”

Ashe and Dedue exchanged looks again. This time Ashe was grinning. “We were talking about that yesterday, actually,” he pulled a cookbook off a nearby shelf and flipped through the pages with nimble precision that suggested they did more than just discuss possible dishes. He stopped on a yellowed page with aged markings circled around the list of ingredients. “This entire book is full of great recipes specifically tailored for wartime prep!”

Annette leaned over his shoulder. The margins of the page were covered with tidy notes, written in the most meticulous penmanship she had ever seen. “This isn’t _ your _ cookbook, is it, Ashe?”

“Mine?” Ashe laughed. “Oh gosh, no. Mercedes helped me find this, actually!”

“Mercedes?! Really? It doesn’t look like her handwriting.” 

“Well, it’s not her cookbook either,” he said. “I told Mercedes about your idea, and she said she knew of some great resources in the library. Apparently this particular cookbook was specifically written with wartime cooking in mind. It takes into account rationing and maximizes your ingredients for the best outcome. I bet even the professor would be proud of us!”

Her eyes drifted down the page as she continued to half-listen to Ashe’s praises. A charmingly vintage illustration of lemons hanging heavy on the boughs of a tree adorned the decoration at the preface of the recipe. 

She smiled in spite of herself. Of course Mercedes managed to find the perfect book, and one with lemons, no less. Somehow, no matter how much Annette tried to conceal her feelings, her best friend always knew. “Mercie found this? Did she suggest this particular recipe?” 

“You bet,” Ashe said. He set a cluster of herbs in front of them and began separating them into smaller bunches. “Originally Dedue and I were discussing maybe a Swift Fish Gratin, but _ this_—” he pointed to the recipe on the page, “seemed like an even better fit. It supposedly bolsters the immune system and your concentration, plus a little speed boost as well.”

“Poached Queen Loach in citrus sauce,” she said, reading the recipe name. “I haven’t even heard of this one before.”

“No,” Dedue sidled between them. He selected a bunch of herbs from Ashe’s assortment and spread them evenly across his tray. “You would not. It is a dish from Duscur. A favorite of my parents, in fact.”

“D-Duscur? Really?! But... I thought no one documented Duscur cooking!”

Dedue nodded. His gentle smile extended to the corners of his eyes, and he handed Annette a lemon. “It is not exactly as I remember, but the author… he put forth a commendable effort. There is little of my culture that has survived, so every attempt is appreciated.”

“It’s titled _ Around the Same Table_,” Ashe said. “The author was actually a knight himself! He traveled during wartime and tried to document recipes from all different places. I was shocked to learn Garreg Mach actually had such a book… it’s the first of its kind I’ve ever seen. But there are all sorts of rare books in the library, so you never know what you’ll find.”

Annette began slicing the lemon into thin rounds as Dedue and Ashe continued to discuss the merits of the cookbook. Her mind began to wander. Would they still be on the brink of battle with the empire if they managed to all come around the same table and eat together too? Annette couldn’t deny that a good meal and good company had healing qualities. It was one of the biggest reasons why she enjoyed working in the kitchen. But the time spent with her former classmates five years ago _ had _ been full of laughter and tasty food, yet here they were, in a future full of war. 

_ And then there’s my own personal war… if this was a battlefield, I’d already be dead for letting my guard down! _

She puffed out her cheeks and slammed the knife down a little too forcefully. The platter of fish rattled. 

_ That’s right! A moment’s hesitation in battle can mean life or death! Even Felix himself knows that! So I can’t hesitate. I’m just going to have to get even stronger than my enemy! _

But when her private battles were being waged against her own impulses and intrusive thoughts, how on earth was she supposed to get stronger? _ She _ was her own enemy. Repeatedly spending time in Felix’s company only seemed to exacerbate the problem (and the simple thought always managed to make her palms sweaty). Avoiding him only made things worse. So what was left? 

_ I suppose… I could just pretend it never happened. _

The scent of lemon washed over her as she reached the end of the fruit. Annette stared down at the thin slices spread across the cutting board. The fragrance was unmistakable. Just like it would be futile to hide the scent of a freshly-cut lemon, masking her own feelings was next to impossible. That approach might’ve worked months ago, but there was one painful sticking factor that tossed a wrinkle into her strategy.

_ I don’t _ want _ to pretend it never happened. _

“I think that’s everything!” Ashe wiped his hands clean on a towel as he finished laying out the fish. “We just need to place the lemon on top, and we’re all set.”

“Not quite,” Dedue said. “In Duscur, we typically add something to offset the citrus. The author did not include this in their recipe.”

“Offset?”

“Yes.”

Ashe glanced around the kitchen. “It’s an acid… so perhaps something salty? Or dairy, but that might not pair so well. What did you use in Duscur, Dedue?”

“The nectar of a Zanado Treasure Fruit… but given that this is a cookbook for wartime, something like that is not easy to come by. I believe this is why it was omitted.”

“Something sweet…” Annette murmured to herself. “That’s it!” 

“What’s it?” Ashe asked. 

“Something sweet!” Annette repeated. A rising tremor of excitement swelled in her chest. “Oh, this is perfect!”

“I… well, _ yes_, I guess it would be perfect if we could get our hands on a Zanado Treasure Fruit,” Ashe chuckled, “but even if the seeds we planted yesterday yielded them, they wouldn’t grow that quickly—”

“No, no! It’s in my song! The answer was in my song all along!”

“You wrote a song about Zanado Treasure Fruit? Wow, Annette, I’m really impressed,” Ashe said. “You truly do have a song for everything.”

“I’m not _ that _ creative!” she giggled. “Not even close!” Annette hastened to the shelf above the stovetop, standing on her toes to reach a small jar near the edge. “Honey!”

“Ah! You’re right. Garreg Mach keeps bees. It’s how Mercedes has been sweetening her pastries.”

“It’s a perfect match!” Annette twirled in an excited little circle before handing Ashe the jar of honey. Showing Felix her support through food was only one part of the equation, but with this added touch… surely he’d understand the reference. After all, it was _ their _ song. Even if he didn’t feel the same for her, it was a way to communicate her feelings without explicitly putting him on the spot or making him uncomfortable. She could always hide behind the excuse that it was only intended to be a boost before the final battle and nothing more.

The solution to her dilemma was in front of her all along. This would give her the best of _ both _ worlds. If he chose to accept… 

If he didn’t, she had plausible deniability. Sure, she couldn’t outright retract her kiss in the greenhouse any more than she could hide the scent of lemon filling the kitchen, but at least this gave her a convenient out. And if he _ did _ accept..

Well, he _ wouldn’t_.

But _ if_… 

If he did, it would be awfully nice. Annette allowed herself a moment to imagine that possibility before stifling the warm, tingling sensation building in her chest. She grinned and couldn’t help but burst back into song.

“_A bitter lemon, sour and sharp, _

_ You cut through every dish you meet… _

_ All that’s missing to curb your edge _

_ Is a little dash of something sweet!_”

A loud grunt jarred her from her reverie, and she spun around. Felix stood in the kitchen doorway, a burlap sack slung over his shoulder. His sharp eyes stared straight through her. 

“Felix!” Ashe offered a friendly nod. “Your timing is great! We were just—”

“Grains from the market,” he said and dropped the sack on the floor. He continued to stare coldly at Annette, and she remained frozen in place. 

_ How… how much did he hear? _

“Ah, thanks. I was going to stop by and pick some up myself,” Ashe said. “You saved me some extra trouble. I really appreciate it!”

“Okay. Bye.”

He was gone in the blink of an eye. Annette slowly stepped away from the shelf and stared at the empty doorway. All her earlier enthusiasm and relief twisted into a mixture of panic and embarrassment. Felix was typically curt, but even for _ him_…

“Huh,” Ashe picked up the sack of grains and handed them to Dedue. “I guess he didn’t want to stick around.”

“No. I suppose not.”


	21. Staccato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix rolled his eyes. If it were possible to weaponize flirtation, Sylvain would be an unmatched threat of mass destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters. It's probably not Felix's favorite chapter though.

A small gust whistled past his ear as Felix swung his sword. He tsked. Too much force, mismatched balance, and the tilt in his posture was at the wrong angle. He gripped the hilt and thrust again. 

_ Sloppy. _

A third swing. His heel twisted. He felt a small tremor run up from his wrist. 

_ Weak. _

He grit his teeth and swung again and again, no longer counting the motions.

Swords were simple. 

Winning and losing were simple. 

_ This _ should be simple. 

So why did everything feel so _ complex _ now?

Felix knew why. It was because he was angry. It felt better to deny it, but that was like comparing being dismembered by a Demonic Beast instead of getting devoured by one. Both were miserable outcomes, and neither felt ‘better’ than the other. 

Lyrics he cherished weeks before persistently flitted through his memory, taunting him. They were eager to muddle his desire for simplicity with more insidious and distracting desires. The only thing that drowned them out was the sound of his sword. Not long ago he was desperate to hold onto those melodies, but now he wanted nothing more than to forget. 

The carefree lilt in her voice, her little spin with the jar of honey in hand, the way the warmth of the kitchen seemed to magnify her very aura and set her whole presence aglow— 

_ But why that song?! _

He knew his anger was stupid. At least that much was simple. 

The more he struggled to unpack his resentment, the more upset it made him, and the messier his training became. He had no claim or ownership over Annette. She was free to sing and do whatever she wished. Hell, he _ enjoyed _knowing other people were appreciating her talents. It gave him a little sense of pride, in a strange, roundabout way. As though their friends were newly discovering something remarkable he was long-familiar with. 

But _ that _ song…

That was _ their _ song. 

It was bad enough her battalion overheard that song during their reclamation of the kingdom. At least that wasn’t intentional, and Annette was reluctant to share it with them during their celebratory feast. Yet somehow she had no reservations about giving Dedue and Ashe a private performance— 

Felix bit down on his lip, hoping the spark of discomfort would focus his thoughts. Maybe the pain would give him something to channel his concentration towards, but all it succeeded in doing was drawing blood. He was still angry, his swings were still off-balance, and now he had a bloody lip to contend with. He licked away the taste and grimaced.

Footsteps accompanied by the sounds of laughter approached. He turned in the direction of the sounds and adjusted his stance with haste. There was nothing shameful about practicing, especially not so close to their attack on the empire, but everything about this session was unfit for observation and not up to his standards. 

“Felix!” Sylvain strolled through the doorway. Mercedes stood at his side, her eyes still twinkling in mid-smile. Both were holding boxes of supplies. “We were just talking about you! Fancy meeting you here.”

Felix grunted. “If you’re not training the day before a decisive battle, you’re doing it wrong.”

“Huh,” Sylvain shrugged. Glances were exchanged between him and Mercedes. “Training still? Haven’t you had enough?”

“Better than sitting idle like you. Or _ flirting,_” he added, darting a look at Mercedes. Sure, they both looked like they had just returned from an errand to the market, but as far as Felix was concerned, Sylvain’s involvement was practically one step removed from ‘idle’ anyhow.

Mercedes graciously smiled. “I ought to get back anyways, Sylvain. Thank you for helping me.”

“Not a problem at all. I think Felix has the right idea; maybe I’ll get in a few rounds before mealtime. Guess you were right all along when we were guessing where he was at,” Sylvain said. He gave Mercedes a playful wink. She continued to smile. They turned their attention back to Felix, and he suddenly felt like he was being judged. Whatever they had been talking about earlier involved him, yet it felt safer to remain ignorant.

“If you had to guess where I was, you don’t know me well at all,” Felix said. “Whatever. Do as you please. I don’t care. Just don’t get in my way.”

“I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Mercedes said. “Please be careful. We all want to be in our best shape for tomorrow.” 

Sylvain set his box at the door and formed a lazy thumbs-up. “Of course we’ll be careful! I wouldn’t dream of letting you down, Mercedes. You can count on me. How about you leave your box here with mine, and I’ll take them both to the pantry once I finish?”

“Are you sure that’s not too much trouble?”

“Not one bit. If I can’t manage some extra boxes, how am I gonna handle all the empire’s baddies?”

Felix rolled his eyes. If it were possible to weaponize flirtation, Sylvain would be an unmatched threat of mass destruction. He pretended not to hear the remainder of their conversation and resumed his next set of mid-air strikes and slashes. 

“Of course,” Mercedes giggled. “Thank you so much again, Sylvain.”

Sylvain waved goodbye, then hoisted up a training axe from the nearby rack. He slowly turned it over in his hands as if it were his first time wielding. “You know,” he said, “you’re just going to burn out again if you keep overdoing it. Wasn’t that fever of yours enough of a warning?”

_ Of course he had to bring that up. _

Felix made a feint jab and imagined stabbing the ghost of a memory he was all-too eager to forget instead. “That was months ago. What’s your point?”

“Months, days, years, it doesn’t matter. If anything, you should be twice as cautious with tomorrow being the big day.”

“I thought I told you not to get in my way. If you have nothing useful to say, then stop wasting my time.”

Sylvain notched the handle of his axe against his shoulder as he shifted into a familiar stance, this one without any of his earlier amateurish handling. He turned an empty palm upwards and curled his fingers forward in a beckoning gesture. “You win, Felix. We can do this your way, that’s fine by me.”

_ That’s more like it. _

Felix nodded, then dashed forward. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Or perhaps it was a grimace from biting it earlier. 

Steel met steel, and Sylvain’s axe struck the edge of Felix’s sword with a surprising amount of force. 

“How long have you been at it? All afternoon?” Sylvain asked. 

Felix sprang back, drawing himself into a more defensive position. “It doesn’t matter. At least I’m not wasting my time.”

“Any time spent in the company of a lovely lady is far from wasted,” Sylvain quipped. He sprinted and took another swing at Felix. It was easily dodged, but he didn’t seem deterred and continued his banter. “And Mercedes is quite the conversationalist, so it was time well-spent,” he added. 

“Talk is cheap.”

“Good thing we’re keeping our purse strings tight during wartime then, eh?”

“Tch,” Felix crouched and made another jab. Sylvain parried again with ease. 

“Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious to know what we were talking about?”

“Why should I be? I don’t care for your gossip.”

Sylvain raised a slender red eyebrow. “There’s no harm in a little chit-chat every now and then.”

Finally an opening. Felix shunted at an angle, twisting his wrist to deflect Sylvain’s oncoming swing. The dodge was sloppy, and he sensed the blade of the Training Axe barely grazing the fur trim of his cloak. 

Sylvain jumped back, swinging his axe around like the pendulum of the grandfather clock in Garreg Mach’s library. “Actually, I was looking for advice. And Mercedes has plenty to spare,” Sylvain said. There was a grin plastered across his face, and something told Felix it had nothing to do with the close shave moments before and everything to do with their gossip.

“If it’s not battle advice, I don’t care.”

“Not even a little?”

“_I don’t care._”

Sylvain quickly caught his axe mid-air and dashed ahead again. Felix made no effort to dodge and instead struck his sword against the blade of the Training Axe, matching Sylvain’s force equally. His friend chuckled, then leaned in close, his face peering through the space created between their weapons. “Then you probably don’t care to hear about my plan to ask Annette out, do you?”

Something sick lurched in his stomach. 

Sylvain was quick to react and shoved his shoulder against the handle of his axe. The edge of the axe embedded itself into the wall, just a hair's breadth away from Felix’s ear. The force pinned Felix against the wall with a jolt. He coughed as the hard surface slammed against his back, biting his lip again and drawing blood for the second time. A tinge of salt filled his mouth. He spat off to the side before locking eyes with Sylvain. “I don’t give a damn what you do. Why should I care?”

It felt like a miserable lie, and the taste of blood in his mouth seemed to sour the instant the words left his lips. He tried to ignore the sensation of being pinned in place. The circumstances were far too similar to another sparring exercise with another redhead, one he enjoyed circulating in his memory on repeat more than he’d like to admit.

Sylvain stared back, mirth and amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, you are my best friend. Caring about who I decide to seriously court should run pretty high on your list.”

“You court anything with two legs.”

“Hey, I have standards!”

“I’m aware. Women. Men. Even _ chickens_, according to Flayn.”

“C-chickens!? Gah...” Sylvain faltered, then tugged his axe free from the wall, releasing Felix from his locked position. He tapped the handle of his axe against his shoulder and sighed. “I’m gonna have to talk with her again about that one…”

“Are we done?” Felix snapped. 

“Done? You spend all afternoon in here, yet we barely even get a chance to spar before you call it quits?”

“I have more important things to do than entertain you.”

Sylvain studied him for a moment. It was the same look from earlier when he entered with Mercedes. “You know, we could die tomorrow.”

“About time you took this seriously.”

“I’m just saying. I’d rather face our final battle with no regrets, you know? So maybe after dinner I’ll find Annette and… well, like I said, Mercedes had great advice.”

“I told you, I don’t care what you do.”

“Then maybe you can at least cheer me on?”

“I don’t care.”

“Then again,” Sylvain spun his Training Axe around one last time before stowing it away, “maybe it’s better to wait until we’ve sealed our victory. What better way to celebrate than sharing my affections with a lovely lady?”

“What’s the point if you wind up dying?”

“I suppose getting a confession from a corpse isn’t all that romantic,” Sylvain said. “Heh, does that mean you care about my endeavors after all?”

“_No._”

“Sheesh, all right! I get it,” Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck, then crouched to retrieve the boxes. “You know, Felix... do you remember the promise we made when we were kids? About sticking together until we die?”

“I remember.”

“Well, I'm really not trying to get myself killed before you. You know that, right? So don’t _ you _ go getting killed tomorrow either… How else am I going to tell Annette if you kick the bucket?”

“Tch. I don’t plan on breaking that promise.”

“Neither do I,” Sylvain smiled. “Catch you at dinner?”

“Whatever.”

“I know, I know. You don’t care. I heard you the first fifty times,” Sylvain hoisted up the boxes with a grin before sauntering away.

That sick sensation bubbled up inside again. Felix felt his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, even as it remained sheathed. 

_ I do care. _


	22. Dissonante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was looking for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing about food in video games never fails to make me hungry.
> 
> _On a small hiatus while I get other aspects of my life in order._

“I have to say, that was probably the best speech I’ve ever heard from the professor.”

“He was in rare form tonight, I agree.”

“Indeed. We all benefit from hearing his encouragement.”

Annette half-listened to the chatter of her friends as they made their way through the quiet halls of Garreg Mach towards the dormitory rooms. Ashe and Dedue continued to trade quotes, with Ingrid’s casual interjections every so often. The scene was idyllic, almost as though they were reliving their school days once more. She had no doubt the professor’s speech was inspirational. And of course, Dimitri’s accompanying words meant to rally them were probably equally inspirational, if not more. Hearing their encouragement was usually all it took to fire her up. 

But Felix’s silence as he sat across from her at the dining table was louder than anything the professor or Dimitri had to say. Not one single word was said, save for a grunt of approval at the completion of the professor’s speech. Annette tried not to stare, but each time she stole a glance his way, Felix was either glowering to himself or scowling at Sylvain. 

Not only was he silent all throughout the meal, but Felix was nowhere to be found afterwards as well, dashing any of her hopes of speaking to him. Even a casual, ‘how was dinner’ was something Annette was certain she could sneak by with minimal awkwardness. Instead, he slipped off somewhere unknown. She expected no less of him. Probably off training, or stabbing something, or moodily staring out a window. 

All highly likely. 

None involving her. 

None acknowledging the poached Queen Loach in lemon sauce, save for his clean plate. Her stomach churned with embarrassment. 

_ I knew this whole thing was stupid. Throwing myself at him with a kiss was bad enough. But using food to tell him how I feel? Even worse! Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

A gentle touch brushed against her shoulder. Mercedes stood at her side, offering a smile as sweet as the Blessed Jelly passed around for dessert. “I feel so motivated for tomorrow’s battle after hearing the professor’s speech. Don’t you, Annie?”

“Eh? Oh. Um... Y-yes! I’m pumped up now!” Annette made a mock arm-thrust, but her laugh sounded less enthusiastic and more nervous. “I really liked the part where… ah…”

“I agree,” Mercedes giggled, “it’s difficult to pick just one part that resonates most. But we’ve come to expect that from our professor, haven’t we?”

Ingrid stopped in front of her door. She gave Ashe and Dedue a polite nod as they went their separate ways towards their own rooms. “A good speech is only going to get us so far. But I confess, hearing Dimitri and the professor put their faith in us inspires me too. Now if _ Sylvain _ could take things a little more seriously…” she shook her head. “Boasting about victory celebrations so soon? Getting cocky like that is only going to distract us.”

“Oh, I don’t know… A little fun doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re too indulgent, Mercedes! Even Felix would agree with me. He looked like he was about to throttle Sylvain from across the table.”

Mercedes smiled, but Annette noted there was something mischievous twinkling in her eyes. “I’m sure he only means well.”

Ingrid tsked. Her opinions obviously differed. “We’ll see if he can back it up with actions tomorrow. I’m calling it a night. Take care, you two.”

Annette mechanically nodded along in-sync with Mercedes, offering a habitual ‘good night’ before resuming their walk down the hallway. Their steps fell into rhythm alongside each other. It was still early enough in the evening that the halls were lit, and nuns and monks were still going about their business on their way towards evening mass. 

A nervous energy seemed to emanate from the very stones of Garreg Mach itself, as though the entire monastery was aware of the history that was about to occur tomorrow when they launched their siege of Enbarr. Just dwelling on it made Annette feel jittery. There was only enough room in her chest for one source of jitters—Felix would have to take a back seat. A _ perpetual _ back seat, she thought firmly, given that he was so determined _ not _ to speak with her.

She briefly wondered if asking Mercedes for an opinion on her feelings regarding Felix would be wise, but that would require admitting her foolishness in the first place. And as far as Annette was concerned, it was better to simply close the chapter on that book and pretend it never happened altogether. The time to pursue a foolish crush was over and done with. How could she even consider it when the fate of the kingdom was on the line?

_ Maybe it’s better this way. I need to give it my all for tomorrow! I can’t have anything distracting me. _

Mercedes paused as they reached Annette’s room and gave her arm another light touch. “Annie? Do you want me to read to you before it gets dark?”

She shook her head. “Not tonight, Mercie. I’m going to review some formulas. I want to make sure my magic is in tip-top shape!”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive! I didn’t spend years studying just to slack off when it matters most!”

Mercedes squeezed her hand. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’m sure no one would ever accuse you of slacking off, Annie.”

“Regardless, I still have a reputation to keep, empire or not!”

The two exchanged hugs before Annette entered her room, closing the door behind her. She sank into her chair with a slow exhale. Spread across her desk sat piles of parchment and notes, and nestled in the corner was her father’s stack of letters—still unopened after receiving them months ago. She swallowed as she caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of her eye. They remained untouched, yet it felt as though the bundle grew larger each time she remembered it. The pile of letters continued to taunt her, and she pulled open a drawer and stashed the piled away, ignoring the mounting apprehension filling her chest. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“No. I have important things to do! I don’t have time for this,” she chastised herself and began combing through her spell books. 

Yet despite stowing away all her distractions, her notes and formulas seemed to bleed together. She’d read through these books already countless times. It was nothing more than a simple review at this point. But Annette’s mind continued to drift to places she simultaneously was anxious to revisit and desperately keen to forget. Her forehead met the surface of her desk with a resigned thud. 

_ What if I never sang for him in the greenhouse? _

_ Why didn’t he say anything at dinner? _

_ How can I look him in the eye and fight alongside together after all this? _

“Ughhhh,” Annette shoved her chair back from the desk with a groan. “I don’t want to think about this anymore! Just let me study in _ peace_!” 

A hesitant knock sounded at her door. 

“M-Mercie! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean _ you_—” she nearly toppled backwards in the chair before scrambling to answer the call. But instead of Mercedes, the first and last person she hoped to see stood in the hallway, his hand still raised from knocking. 

“Felix?!”

He immediately glanced away, as if feeling guilty. “Were you expecting Mercedes? Sorry. I’ll go.”

“N-no! I mean, you don’t have to. I just thought—well, I mean, she and I were talking earlier, so I figured maybe she came back…”

“Oh.”

His eyes darted across her face before scanning the room behind her with the slightest craning of his neck. There was something familiar about his body language. It took her a moment to realize it was the exact same look she’d seen countless times on the training grounds and in battle—he was sizing up an enemy.

_ Did he just come back to make fun of me again? Is that what this is all about?! _

“Listen, Felix! If you think you can just waltz over here to tease me after _ ignoring _ me all dinner—”

“Have you seen Sylvain?”

She blinked mid-rant. “S… Sylvain? What?”

“Sylvain,” he repeated, urgency creeping into his voice. “Was he here? Did he come by?”

“Um… no? I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? When did you last see him?”

All her earlier anger quickly shifted to concern at the panic in Felix’s tone. “Is he missing? You don’t think he’s gone off and done something reckless before tomorrow, do you?”

“He’s always doing something reckless,” Felix grumbled. “When did you last see him?”

“No, not since dinner. Why? If he’s gone missing, we need to go find him!” Annette quickly snapped up her shawl. “There’s barely any time before tomorrow, and we can’t be down a wyvern rider! I’ll pull together a search party.”

Felix’s hands shot out and grabbed her shoulders before she could push past him. Her breath caught in her chest at his touch. “No,” he said. “We don’t need a search party. He’s not missing. I just… I was wondering if you had seen him.”

She was bursting to ask all the questions bubbling up inside. Questions about dinner. Questions about her performance in the greenhouse. Questions about _ them_. But now that she had his full attention, it felt impossible to put anything into words. Annette licked her lips, and then finally blurted out, “I can pass along a message if I see him. Would you like that?”

“No,” he answered hastily. 

“O-okay. Is… is that all you wanted? To speak with Sylvain?”

“I was looking for you.”

Despite his hold on her shoulders feeling quite nice in the moment, Annette couldn’t help but experience a rush of indignation. Now that his main objective was complete, apparently it was time to return to an old pastime, and she was in no mood to be teased. “Looking for me? Felix, we sat _ across _ from each other at dinner and you didn’t say a word! _ Now _ you need to talk to me?”

“Yes. It’s about tomorrow.”

Felix stared into her eyes. The tips of his ears were red. Was he embarrassed? 

_ Ah... Of course! Oh, Felix, you dummy. All you had to do was ask! _

The tension in her shoulders eased. Now his urgency was starting to make sense. “You only just recently changed classes, right? There’s no shame in asking for help!”

“Help?” he said, glancing down the hallway before looking back at her in confusion. “I don’t…”

“You’re training as a mortal savant now, right? I had top marks in Reason! I mean, Sylvain’s no slouch himself, but if you can’t find him, I’m sure I can help. Your timing is perfect, actually. I was starting to have trouble focusing on my own spell charts,” she admitted with a sheepish laugh. “If you’d like, I can lend them to you for tomorrow! And if you didn’t want to ask in front of everyone at dinner… I understand.”

Felix took great pride in his abilities, so it was only natural that he’d be apprehensive after shifting to a new class that required new skills. It was better late than never to ask for help. Of course he’d look for Sylvain first. They were close friends, after all. But to be his second choice was still flattering, and her heart fluttered at the thought. He trusted her enough to confide in her. 

_ The great, irascible Felix—coming to me and asking for help! _

The flush of red spread from his ears across his face. “That’s… I mean...” 

He looked so _ serious_. Annette felt a pang of sympathy for him. She knew all too well how overwhelming it felt learning a new arte. “You shouldn’t be so unsure of yourself though,” she encouraged. “You know, between you and me… the professor thinks you’re a true natural! He said you had a budding talent for it. Ah—but you weren’t supposed to hear that from me!”

Felix scoffed, sounding more like himself again. “Talent means nothing without hard work.”

“Exactly! That’s why it’s so important to study! But… I confess, I haven’t been the best at studying lately.”

“You study more than enough.” 

She wondered how long until he realized he was still holding her shoulders but felt absolutely no desire to break away. Something in her chest fluttered again. “It’s true though. I’ve been slacking… And not just with studying! Father’s letters—I haven’t even _ looked _ at them,” she confessed. “He… he told me to burn them. But I can’t.”

It was the first time she had told anyone about her father’s letters. Not even Mercedes was aware, although it wasn’t something Annette was concealing intentionally. Speaking about the letters made them feel real, and just knowing they sat imposingly in her desk drawer was like concealing hot coals that threatened to catch spark and set the room on fire. 

But something about the look on Felix’s face made Annette feel compelled to confide in him. Would he do the same if Rodrigue had left behind his own letters? 

“What… what would you do, Felix? If you were me?”

“Me? What do _ you _want to do with them?” 

“I don’t know. I’m… I’m scared. Scared to read them. Scared to burn them. Scared to _ have _ them. I want to know what he wrote. I _ want _ to read them! It’s just…” she flustered, and her own face felt hot. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this! I shouldn’t be thinking of myself and what I want at a time like this. I guess it’s just… you came to me asking for help, so it feels only fair to tell you my secret too.”

“Secret?” His voice cracked. 

Seeing him fluster was far cuter than Annette bargained for. This was way better than getting teased, and it made the silence between them at dinner all worth it. 

“I promise not to tell anyone. You can borrow my notes as long as you need,” she grinned. “Besides, the professor is never wrong on these kinds of things.”

“I don’t… I’m… I’m fine. I don’t need them. But thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

His jaw was clenched, and his face still flushed. Was his pride that important to him? 

“Felix…” she offered an encouraging smile, “I know you’re going to be incredible tomorrow! I believe in you.”

A softness came to his eyes. He released her shoulders and gently tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re always thinking of others,” he murmured. 

Her heart sputtered and screeched to a halt. “Wh… what?”

Felix snapped his hand back in an instant, as if he had unwittingly touched a burning candle. “S… sorry. That’s… I didn’t… _ ugh_,” he shook his head. “Thank you... for offering your notes. I’ll be fine.”

“I…”

Silence stretched between them like a tautly drawn string, threatening to snap at the slightest movement. Annette remained perfectly still, afraid to move and afraid to even try processing whatever meaning—if any—was behind his affectionate gesture.

He stared back at her, breathing heavily through his nose, then turned and started to walk away.

“W-wait! What… what…”

“You’re always thinking of others,” he said again and stopped, his back facing her. “But you should think of yourself. Read his letters. Not for him. For you.”

“Ah…”

Her fingers brushed along the lock of hair behind her ear as she watched him slip back into the darkness of the hallway. 

_ That… what was that?! _

Annette stayed rooted in place, her heart pounding in her ears. It wasn’t until the sound of his footsteps had completely trailed off did she return to her room and pull the bundle of letters out from her desk. She lit the candle with a shaking hand and sat at the foot of her bed. 

No textbooks. No parchment. No studying. 

No self-doubt, no guilt, and no shame. 

For the first time in recent memory, she read for herself and no one else. 


End file.
